My Monster Myself
by EmmaLennyEddie
Summary: All these years, his life has been a lie. The adventures, his best friend, yes, it's true. Fanboy has schizophrenia, and he has just found out the truth, that his best friend may not be what he has conceived, and the one girl he thought to be an enemy, a friend. *cover art by me*
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

Unlike many personal stories to tell, Fanboy's story never truly had a beginning. It was so unlike anybody else in common, who's life had a complete story to tell, his only had a middle in remembrance, and an unforgettable end. It wasn't entirely his fault; it was simply unknown. His early life was unknown. But the life leading onto this unknown beginning would be well known indeed. And that's where his story starts.

The story started, actually, within his own mind, because he IS the story. He created, he conjured, he motioned his own life, his own environment! He created the many adventures that I know and love...but...behind his zeal imagination, behind his zest for a rich life, there was something off...something far more sinister...

Nobody saw it coming. He certainly was unaware of the upcoming circumstances. The point is... Who would have ever predicted that a tragic situation would strike someone so engulfed in sunshine and happiness; full of friendship, color, and love, and with no intention to harm another.

His story settles in Galaxy Hills, California. A normal town with a normal school and normal stores to the eyes of any citizen or tourist, except one. But that was his fault. Because HE wasn't normal. HE didn't see things the way everyone saw things. His eyes, his wide, emerald eyes, were off. The things those eyes saw were beyond normal comprehension. And because of what he saw, horrible things happened to him, mental and physical things alike. Countless appalling, tragic things came to pass when he least expected it, most of the time, anyways.

Tragic event after tragic event came about seemingly from nowhere, from behind the underbrush, from the confines of his home, the people resident in town. But of course, that's through his eyes.

Everyone knows that tragedy has a sick sense of humor you wouldn't possibly understand. Bad situations enjoy playing with people's minds to rock us off, using us as powerless puppets, to lure us poor souls into darkness.

Sometimes a tragedy even drives the helpless victim to insanity or incurable depression. Some people say most heartrending things happen at important events, like the Bombing in Boston, or the Connecticut school shooting. Are they correct? Well, due to some assumptions, yes and no.

Of all the horrible things that have happened to children, death would've been an act of mercy to the poor Fanboy. To him, it would have been an escape to what happened.

But really, how can you scale tragic events? Aren't they all horrible in each and every way? Supposing it all depends on the person who it affects, or the surrounding prospectors. Does it truly matter how bad a tragic event is...? It depends on how other react.

This cataclysmic story takes place in said town of Galaxy Hills, California. It's an uncomplicated town, really; a sleepy colorful little place, filled with remarkable, and extraordinary people and creatures. Well, conceivably the 'uncomplicated' part in describing the town isn't true, according to the patron we've been speaking of. To him, this town is very complicated. For him, adventurous happenings occur in the town just about every day. These adventures of his are somewhat… strange. The escapades that happen to the citizens may appear fun and daring, but in the true nature of reason, these adventures are somewhat… horrible… and dangerous.

There were injuries, yes. Fatal injuries for some. There were hurt feelings and betrayal, yes. There were small, redundant battles. There was even a time when some of the residents ripped a hole into space-time continuum in a school classroom, according to Fanboy.

However, in all of the crises in Galaxy Hills, not one person had been hurt mentally, at least not to the point where the person had lost all hope, will, and meaning in life. Not one, single person. Tragedy is aware of this. So, because it is aware of this interesting preposition, tragedy will strike down and strike hard on the first person it sees.

...

The atmosphere happened to be very hot and dry, which was surprising, considering the fact that it was autumn. It was about eight o' clock in the morning, a fine Saturday.

Up in the water tower that stood proudly on the horizon in the heart of the town, resident Fanboy was just getting up to prepare himself and his best friend for the day.

As soon as the alarm clock went off, a pair of emerald eyes popped open wide and the owner of said eyes shot out of bed...singing the "Together" song.

Chum Chum woke up immediately and followed along with older male. "Tooooooogether! Together! Our friendship's what we treasure!" The boys sang loudly, laughing as they slid down the pale green slide that led to the living room and finished their song with excessive dramatic flourish.

"Whooh!" Fanboy said cheerily, stretching a bit. "That song; it never gets old!"

"Sure doesn't," Chum Chum agreed, tugging on his cape. "C'mon, let's get some breakfast. Remember that Man-Arctica Crunch we bought?"

Fanboy's eyes widened and they both sprinted for the kitchen. After eating, Fanboy sat back and sighed.

"Sooooo…what shall we do today, my pocket-sized amigo?" He asked his best friend, who was currently eating cereal. Chum Chum shoved the last bit of Man-Arctic Crunch in his mouth and leaned on his elbow and smiled.

"Why don't you pick?" He mumbled, still chewing, "I mean, *gulp* I've already picked three games, and it's only eight in the morning!" He declared.

Fanboy placed a hand on his chest and pretended to be surprised. "Me? Pick? Well, I don't know there are just so many options! Well, we could play a board game...?"

Chum Chum pretended to retch in disgust. "Okay, no board games," Fanboy agreed. They both shuddered. Yuck.

"Freezy Freeze?" Chum Chum suggested after a few moments, smiling. Fanboy placed one of his hands on the kitchen counter top and fist pumped Chum Chum with the other. "Don't mind if I do."

...

Hand in hand, smiles plastered on their faces, skipping merrily across the street, two boys made their way to their favorite place in the world. This special place was known as the Frosty Mart. At this place, comics crowded the racks, hot dogs were on sale, video games reigned supreme, and to top it off, the store sold Frosty Freezy Freezes.

"The Frosty Mart, The Frosty Mart, we're going to The Frosty Mart!" Both boys sang at the top of their lungs as they started to cross the wide city road; the Frosty Mart was located directly across from them. "The Frosty Mart, The Frosty Mart, we're going to The Frosty Mart!" They continued to sing quite loudly, as they made their way to the halfway mark on the street that was momentarily deserted.

The shorter boy could hardly keep up with his older friend, due to his short legs, and as he tried to catch up, he began to breathe heavily.

Fanboy failed to noticed the shorter boy's panting and sped off down the street, laughing as he went. He sped faster and faster, away from the younger boy. Said younger boy felt his lungs clench and tighten inside his chest and the muscles in his short legs cramp up considerably.

The two were almost across the street, and it was now that the older boy paused and looked back at his friend.

"Do you want to take a break, buddy?" Fanboy asked in a concerned tone of voice, obviously worried at the way his best friend was gasping for breath.

In the middle of the road? Genius. Chum Chum bent down on one knee to catch his breath and beckoned a black-gloved hand at his friend. "*Gasp* Ah. N-No. *gasp* *cough* It's fine, really- *cough*"

Fanboy walked towards his friend slowly and said in a concerned tone, "If you want, I can carry you the rest of the way! Or maybe you can rest for a few minutes." The second option was invalid, for the two children were now very imprudently situated in the central point of the road, not even on the lookout for moving vehicles.

Chum Chum sighed loudly and nodded. "O-Okay. *Cough* Y-You can carry me if it's not too much trouble, but only until we get to the Frosty Mart. I *cough* don't want to tire you out!" The shorter one was crouched on the rough pavement, unnoticeable to any passing drivers.

"Uh-huh. Gotcha buddy! Honestly though, don't worry about me getting tired," Fanboy agreed, and he outstretched his long arms towards his best friend to pick him up in advance.

He was looking at Chum Chum's face at the time, and when he was suddenly confronted by the sound of screeching tires and reflective metal instead of his friend, he gasped and withdrew his hands. Another intake of breath reached his ears, followed by a sharp thunk. Then, silence.

Fanboy blinked and stared at his reflection on the car's side, and he whispered, "Ch-Chum Chum?" He wasn't aware of the sharp burning on his face until a few moments later. With trembling fingers, he reached up and touched his cheek, and pulled away seconds later with crimson coating his digits.

"Where…? Where's Chum Chum…?" He wondered aloud, face throbbing, but he was far more concerned for his best friend's well being than his own.

Fear began to flood Fanboy's thoughts as he stared into the reflective orange metal surface of the car, which had abruptly stopped dangerously close to his injured face. A deep gash, about the size of his palm, littered his cheek. Thankfully, the gash ended below his right eye.

Frightened, Fanboy scooted back a couple feet and shakily stood up to look at the perpetrator driving the orange colored vehicle. …. It was Boog. The man was seated behind the wheel, mouth gaping, eyes wide, and face pale. "D-Dweeb? I almost hit you! Watch it!" he yelled, and then noticed the boy's injury. "A-Are you okay?"

Fanboy shook his head slowly as waves of waves of adrenaline began to shoot up his spine, and his face throbbed with pain. Oh no… Oh no… Oh no… Oh no…. Oh no… Oh no… Oh no… Oh no! He began to analyze the situation he was in as he dropped to his hands and knees on the hard pavement, and began to search for his little companion.

Boog leaned out the car window and raised an eyebrow. "Uh... What are you doing?" He asked slowly, the whole thing looking quite strange to him.

"Chum Chum? Chum Chum? Where are you, Buddy?" Fanboy cried fretfully as he encircled the car. He checked behind each wheel, hoping to find Chum Chum's round, scared little face. He found nothing.

"Chum Chum? CHUM CHUM!" Fanboy yelled, being unable to locate as to where his best friend was. Boog blinked as he watched the male in worry. Did he get hit that hard? Convinced that Fanboy was just in shock, the teen said, "Dude, you're fine! Just chill."

Fanboy paid no attention and sat back on his haunches as tears quickly formed in his wide, terrified eyes. The only running thought going on in his head was, "WHERE IS HE? PLEASE! BOOG! YOU HAVE TO HELP LOOK FOR CHUM CHUM!" With a new sensation of dread he stood up and jogged to the left side of the car, where Boog sat, shocked.

"W-What?" He squeaked as the boy's emerald eyes bore into his own cyan ones. For once, he was at almost a loss for words.

Fanboy quickly placed his gloved hands on the windowsill, gripping it tightly and leaned in close to Boog. A few of his tears dripped onto the leather seat as he took a breath and asked in a shaky voice, "W-Where is h-he? Please, just please tell me where Chum Chum is!"

When the older teen failed to give him an immediate answer, Fanboy suddenly yelled, "Don't you hold out on me, Boog!"

A bit perpetuated, Boog's eyes darted this way and that for a few moments, scouring the area, until his callused muscular hand trembled as he pointed further up the road a couple of yards.

"T-There. He's right there." Fanboy quickly followed his gaze until his own met upon Chum Chum's body, curled up with his back to them.

With a frightened gasp, Fanboy sprinted towards his friend, who had his back towards him. "Chum Chum! Chum Chum! Chum Chum!" Boog watched him from the car, unsure of what to do. His first impulse was to drive away, but the kid was still in the middle of the road, nearly in a mental panic attack.

Fanboy quickly kneeled down next to Chum Chum's body, trepidation filling his mind as he noticed that a deep gash ran along the side of Chum Chum's skull. His friend's chocolate colored eyes were closed, and he wasn't moving. Fanboy placed a shaking hand over his mouth and choked back a cry as he stared at the bleeding wound.

"Chum Chum! Oh no! Are you okay?" Fanboy cried, placing a hand on the sidekick's shoulder and shaking gently, "Chum Chum? CHUM CHUM! Please answer me! C'MON, ANSWER ME!" When the younger boy didn't respond, the older one placed a gloved hand over the wound, desperately attempting to apply pressure to the area.

"Please wake up, Buddy! Come on! Please wake UP!" He cried. He then grimaced in disgust, his stomach churning heavily at the sight of the blood seeping through his fingers, and staining his violet gloves.

"Oh no, oh no, oh no… Please no…" Fanboy whispered. He began panicking when the blood started to stream down Chum Chum's face and onto the rough street pavement.

"Oh, gosh… B-BOOG!" Fanboy removed his hand from the wound, jumped up, and recklessly darted his way back to the orange-colored vehicle. Boog gulped as the male advanced. "Oh no..." He realized, "His imaginary friend got hit."

"Boog, you have to help me! Please! He's hurt!" The purple-clad boy whimpered, again placing his now bloody gloved fingers on the windowsill. His chest was heaving, pupils like needlepoints and it seemed that he was going to have a mental panic attack.

Nodding hesitantly, Boog fished his Chimp-Chomp themed cell phone from his pocket and dialed 9-1-1 with trembling fingers as Fanboy made his way back to Chum Chum as the man called an ambulance for the purple-clad boy.

The bleeding was becoming worse, the crimson red staining Chum Chum's clothes, as it formed a large puddle. He was fading fast, and Fanboy couldn't do anything about it. "Oh, no you don't. Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no, no, no, NO! Don't you dare leave Buddy! Don't you leave me! Please! You can't!" He was becoming hysterical.

"Please, just said somebody over!" Boog hissed into the phone. "There's a kid who's going mental in the middle of the road...okay...good."

The blood was seeping through his fingers more quickly now, a stream of crimson staining Fanboy's violet gloves and neon-green attire. Fanboy noticed this; his face paled and he began to feel lightheaded. With an audible gurgle he clumsily stumbled away from his dying comrade, tripping over his own feet as he emptied out the contents of his stomach.

Sirens began to fill the air as Fanboy continued to heave and cough helplessly. An ambulance and two police cars swerved and stopped next to his friend. The doors of the vehicles quickly slammed opened and out poured doctors with their medical equipment.

Fanboy watched with hopefulness as two paramedics took action, but his hope instantly deflated when they passed Chum Chum as if he were not even there. Instead, they walked toward _him_.

He saw one of the cops talking to a now lamenting Boog, jotting down notes on a yellow notepad. As Fanboy surveyed the horrible scene, he also became aware of that a few of his classmates had showed up, curious what the commotion was about. They whispered, pointed, but for what reason did they not seem shocked?

The youngster slowly wrapped his arms around his knees to keep them from shaking and started to slowly rock back and forth in utter shock. A few paramedics scurried beside him, much to his confusion. "What? WHAT?!" he cried. "Don't! Go to Chum Chum! To Chum Chum!" He pointed his finger. The paramedics didn't so much as glance in that direction and gripped his arms as he tried to go back to the middle of the road where he thought his best friend was. "No! Let me go! Please! _PLEASE_!"

"Shhh. Honey," the female paramedic whispered, "You need to calm yourself. Please, just take a deep breath, and-"

"NO!" With one final yank, he managed to free himself of the paramedics' grip-only to be held down again.

Wandering his emerald, tear-filled eyes as he struggled, Fanboy noticed Yo in the midst of the crowd; she was desperately trying to fight off the people who were keeping her from running to him. Fanboy shuddered in dread as he saw Yo finally give up, falling to her hands and knees, sobbing her eyes out. To Fanboy's own surprise, Kyle was there as well, his hands over his mouth, his eyes wide. …But…They weren't even glancing Chum Chum's way. Why? What on Earth was going on?

"Why aren't they looking at him?" Fanboy thought frantically. "Why isn't anybody helping him?" The super fan stared intently at the paramedics performing their work, checking _his_ blood pressure, taking _his_ temperature, and he gagged at the amount of blood on the street that he saw. It was seeping towards Fanboy in a gleaming crimson stream. He didn't bother moving away, and let the blood drench his shoes and legs. Ugh… "H-Hey!" Fanboy shouted at one of the paramedics, "I-Is he going to be okay?" Nobody answered; he was ignored. "IS HE GOING TO BE OKAY?!"

"Calm down," one of the female paramedics soothed, handing him a small plastic cup of water. "It isn't real sweetie." That statement caught his attention. "You're safe. It's alright. You're safe."

_"No I'm not!" _Fanboy wanted to scream in her freckled face, refusing the drink by shoving her hand away._ "And neither is Chum Chum, whom you're completely ignoring by the way!" _He sniffed and wiped his runny eyes, trying to at least get a glimpse of his best friend, but as he looked toward the location where he thought Chum Chum was, he didn't see him anymore.

As if...Chum Chum had miraculously disappeared into thin air.

"Where are you, Buddy?"

_"It isn't real sweetie."_

He stared up at the cloudless blue sky, as if he was trying to send a message to Chum Chum that way. The shouting and panicked cries filled his ears, all coming together in a boisterous roar. "Don't you leave me, Buddy," The boy whispered hoarsely, as he moved his stare to the paramedics, who were whispering among themselves, some jotting down notes. "Don't even think about it, Chum Chum."

He buried his face in his arms and cried to himself, "God, don't take him away… Please… You can't… I-I'll do anything… Oh, God, you can't…! He's my best friend!"

They'd had been best friends since preschool! They had been together for as far as Fanboy could remember. He honestly couldn't remember the last time he had been without his best friend, other than the trading day. Chum Chum just couldn't leave; he just couldn't!

"FANBOY!"

Fanboy's head jerked up at the sound of his nickname, and searched for the person who called it. All of his awareness was now focused on Yo, who had been on her knees a moment before, was know sprinting towards him, her arms outstretched, tears painting her cheeks, and with the most horrible look on her face. She took no notice of the hands of some passersby's that tried to hold her back as she advanced towards Fanboy, who had slowly and fearfully begun to scoot away.

With an earsplitting scream, Yo wrapped her hands around Fanboy's scrawny throat and firmly began to squeeze.

"HOW COULD HAVE YOU LET THIS HAPPEN? HOW?" She screamed, and her grip tightened around his neck. "I TRIED SO HARD, FANBOY! YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW MUCH I TRIED TO HELP YOU!" The paramedics gasped and tried to pull her away, but to no avail. "WHY DO YOU KEEP DOING THIS!?"

With a pained gasp, Fanboy swiftly moved his violet-gloved hands to hers and made a weak attempt to loosen her grip. This just seemed to put the Asian girl in even more rage, and she pressed harder, ready to squeeze the life out him.

"What the elf? Wha-YO! STOP! MY GOD! You're going to bloody KILL him!" Kyle yelled, running as fast as he could towards Yo. The Brit quickly unlatched her fingers from Fanboy's throat, gripped her tensed arms, and spun her to face him. "Are you insane? It's not his fault! It's NOT HIS FAULT!"

"I DON'T CARE!" Yo yelled, her face a bright burgundy color from her crying. She kept twisting away from Kyle and trying to get back at Fanboy, who was coughing and gasping for breath. The paramedics stared at her in shock before tending to the boy once again.

Kyle held her determinedly though, and fortunately she was unable to reach the traumatized boy. Fanboy backed away from the girl, coughing every few seconds, along with his sobbing.

Kyle led Yo away from Fanboy, and dragged her behind the crowd, out of sight. He gripped her shoulders tighter, afraid that she would attack Fanboy a second time. "Yo," Kyle whispered sadly, "what were you thinking? You could have killed him!"

Yo glared at Kyle and said darkly, "What makes you think I would do that? He's just-" she gritted her teeth and gripped her raven hair, loosening a few strands.

"I think you did that," Kyle began calmly, "because you're angry right now."

"Thanks for that," Yo muttered under her breath sarcastically.

"Yo, he's in shock. He just needs to calm down."

"No!" Yo cried rather loudly, enough to draw the attention of several people in the crowd, "Don't you understand Kyle? Don't you understand at all? Do you know how much trouble Fanboy's caused?! You know? He'll be gone! He's going to be six feet under, pushing up daisies if he does things like this!" She looked around and lowered her voice. "Chum Chum's dead, Kyle," she whispered. "Don't you see? The car crash? Don't you see how he kept asking by they weren't helping Chum Chum? That's because Chum Chum's dead! He is DEAD!"

Kyle tried to calm her down with reasoning, "Look, I understand you're upset, but-"

"No!" Yo yelled one more. She tried again to twist away from Kyle, "No, you don't understand at all Kyle! You've never had anyone that whom you've cared for and then suddenly, THEY GO BONKERS!"

Kyle covered his mouth with one hand, which gave Yo the opportunity to finally free herself from his grasp, "Yo! Don't say things like that! What gives you the freedom to say whether I have a care for anyone or not!?"

The Brit expected Yo to run off, but surprisingly enough, she stayed where she was, and thrust a shaky finger at his face, "Kyle, you would never understand! I care about him more than anything! He's only eleven years old! He's barley lived his life and now he's going to snap! You can't tell me to relax every time one of my best friends in the world is going to FREAKING **SNAP**! He's just caused so much turmoil in this town and because of that, I can't believe you don't expect me to be mad at him!" She ranted.

Kyle stared at her, "I…I don't…Well, listen. All we can do right now is cross our fingers, pray, and hope for the best. Everyone has troubles at a point in their lives for a legitimate reason, and I'm sure-!"

Yo cut him off, "A reason? A REASON? Kyle! What did he do wrong? NOTHING! Has he done anyone bad? Has he betrayed anyone? Has he been cruel? NO! Why did he have to be the one to leave? I wish Chum Chum would just go AWAY!" Her little comment there earned her a slap in the face from Kyle. She stumbled back from him, gaping, tears rolling down her face.

"Yo," Kyle said sternly catching her slightly off guard, "Don't. Ever. Speak. Like That." He said it slowly to make sure the message was clear, "If Fanboy ever overheard you say those things… Just imagine how that would make him feel."

Yo didn't answer, and Kyle began to sweat in nervousness, more for Fanboy's sake than hers. Well, why would he not be nervous? He hadn't dealt with anyone who had schizophrenia before. How would Fanboy react if he knew about the hallucinations?

"..."

The paramedics huddled around the boy in a circle, blocking anyone's view of their work and what they were doing. Fanboy squeezed his eyes shut, blocking everyone's' voices and soothing murmurs. He was so confused… So confused, and he needed to get to Chum Chum! He tried to get away, but no.

It was no use.

Chum Chum was gone.

Forever gone….

Fanboy covered his mouth and choked back a cry as he watched with wide eyes, one of the paramedics slowly walking to where Chum Chum used to be. Tears streamed down Fanboy's pale face and his chest heaved. What was going ON?

One of the paramedics noticed Fanboy's weeping and took that into account. She walked over to the boy and knelt down next to him.

"I'm very sorry," She apologized softly, "but we've...done everything that we can, and…um, the, uh...force of the collision was too much," She placed a hand on Fanboy's shoulder and he looked up at her with blood-shot eyes. He sniffed and waited for her to speak the obvious, horrible truth. "I'm sorry, but he's gone." It was like a punch in the gut. Fanboy heard Yo scream out in agony and collapse to the ground, sobbing loudly. He felt lifeless.

Fanboy saw his classmates look intently at him with wide and sorrowful eyes as he continued to shake and cry. A few girls, namely Francine, Lupe, and Cher, went over to console Yo, talking softly to the crying girl.

The young super-fan buried his face in his arms as a way to muffle his sobs, until he felt a large but loving hand on his shoulder.

"It's okay," A lisped voice soothed. "It's going to be okay." Fanboy's eyes welled up once more, as he looked up at his much elder friend: Oz. With a heart-wrenching cry, Fanboy fell into the man's open arms and sobbed hysterically. Oz brought Fanboy's head to his chest and held him tighter.

"Shhh… It's all right. Don't worry… Chum Chum's in heaven now," He told the broken, crying child. Fanboy thought nothing of it, but there was a hint of relief in Oz's voice.

A strange feeling overtook Fanboy. A feeling he had felt before. It was a warm, fuzzy feeling in his eyes, and a throbbing sensation in his brain. A white noise filled his ears, blocking all the other naturals sounds he had heard only two seconds before.

"..."

And then he saw it. As he lifted his head from Oz's shoulder, he caught a glimpse of someone who looked eerily familiar. He shook his head, unsure if he was hallucinating or not. There was Chum Chum, smiling happily at him, waving. A boy about his age stood next to him with a terrible look on his face. It was a smirk, and its gloved hand was placed on the little boy's shoulders…Green and purple...and that was all he could capture about this child's appearance before they disappeared.

"Chum Chum?" He gasped, and he felt Oz's grip on him tighten.

"It's not real, lil' dude. It's not real," the man reassured him. "It isn't real. Seriously."

The sinister looking child reappeared, this time to his left. The male gasped. "Oz! Look!" he pointed to the other child, and Oz took a glance, biting his lip before tuning Fanboy's head away.

"It isn't real."

"B-But...?" Fanboy trailed off, panic settling in. "What is going ON?" Just as he said that, the child moved its way to Fanboy and observed the weeping boy, who stared back with wide eyes. How blissful this child had seemed just a few minutes ago, now nothing more than a heap of pitiful sadness. "Who is that!?" Fanboy thought frantically. Nobody seemed to notice the boy. "How come nobody else can see you?!" he thought hysterically.

The child tilted his head to the left and smiled an eerie smile._ "I dunnoooooo..."_

Fanboy stiffened immediately upon hearing this. The voice had literally appeared in his mind, but the boy's mouth hadn't moved. "H-How…?"

The child placed his violet-gloved hand on Fanboy's shoulder and gripped it softly. Then it leaned in close and whispered into Fanboy's ear,_ "Aw, look at you. Not much of a hero anymore, huh?"_ Fanboy jerked his head up. What was THAT? "What's going on?" He yelled into Oz's shoulder.

Oz managed to tear himself away from the boy and walked over to one of the adults. He leaned into the ear of one of the paramedics and began whispering something. He pointed at Fanboy a few times, and Fanboy caught a few of his words: *whisper* reality…*whisper* problems…*whisper* ward… *whisper* …state. After a few nods and a handshake later, the paramedics packed up their things and began to clear out, much to Fanboy's horror.

"W-Wha-? Where's everyone going?!"

...

Fanboy sprinted into his water tower home, slamming the door behind him. The door shut with a bang, so loud, it left an agonizing silence in the air. He breathed heavily for a few moments before pacing around his home aimlessly; only one thought penetrating in his mind, "Chum Chum is dead… Chum Chum is dead… Chum Chum is dead…"

With tears in his eyes, Fanboy shouted to nobody in particular, "DO YOU HEAR ME ANYONE? MY BEST FRIEND IS DEAD! HE'S IN HEAVEN MILLIONS OF MILES AWAY! I'LL NEVER SEE HIM ALIVE AGAIN!" He collapsed to the wooden floor, sobbing his eyes out.

Fanboy had cried for a few hours, but to him, it felt like forever.

**Firstly, allow me to point out the fact that I know what you're thinking: really? Another Fanboy and Chum Chum story? How obsessed is this chick? My answer: VERY! I've been in the process of writing this entire story for over a year now. Ever since last summer, I have been working nonstop on the chapters.** **This story is very weird and very depressing. Heck, I cried buckets just writing it. You'll probably be very confused if you read this but haven't seen the show, because I am NOT explaining the character's back-stories. I don't want my stories to be full of EXPOSITION! :( Well, of COURSE there is going to be a bit of back-story for Fanboy, but not for characters like Kyle, Lupe, Yo, or my characters I placed in for the mental hospital patients! Just other characters.**

**So sit back and enjoy the story if you enjoy confusing, complicated relationships, mental psychology, and insanity. Lot's and LOT'S of insanity! **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Whew! Another day of nothing but typing!**

'Beep… Beep… Beep'

'What time is it?'

'It's seven o' clock, and today is…?'

'Monday… Monday…! Monday…! Monday…!'

Fanboy woke up with a start in a cold sweat really, eyes blinking rapidly with dismounting fear. He sat up quickly, clutching the blankets tightly as he brought them to his chest in fear. "Huh? WHO DIED?"

He sat there, breathing heavily for a few moments, clutching the blankets until the beating rhythm of his heart slowed.

With a sigh he rubbed the sides of his temples as the drone of the alarm clocks filled his ears….and something else.

...What that someone laughing? He glanced looking up, a shimmering shimmer in the midst of his sight. He blinked, and then it was gone. P-Perhaps it was just because of his fuzzy vision from just awakening. But still…he looked again in silence, ears trying to pick up what he had heard. _Something_ watched from afar, or perhaps it was close, who would know? Certainly not Fanboy, who was still too young to truly understand what _Something_ was. Whatever it was, it was with Fanboy at all times.

"Chum Chum!" Fanboy announced, yawning as he did so, "Turn off your…?" Fanboy turned his gaze from the clocks and stared at Chum Chum's empty bed. "Chum Chum…? Hold on… D-Did that…?" His eyes widened, and his hear started to pound as the memories came flooding back, all at once. "D-Did all of that actually happen…?" Fanboy stuttered to himself, mainly thinking out loud. He stared at Chum Chum's empty bed, as tears began to well up in his eyes. Then he noticed something on his bedside table, in between the beeping clocks. His mask. "Oh, my, gosh… Did it really…?" Fanboy gasped and covered his mouth at the horrifying thought.

"Oh. No. Chum Chum…" Fanboy gasped, and then trailed off as the tears slid down his cheeks. He gripped his golden brown hair, biting his bottom lip as he did so, struggling against the urge to start crying out loud. He fell backwards onto the pillow, the clocks beeps getting louder and louder as Fanboy covered his unmasked face with his arms.

"Oh, NO!"

'Come on!' Fanboy's clock beeped.

'Yeah,' Chum Chum's clock chimed in. 'You're going to be late! You're going to be late! You're going to be late!' The devices chanted.

Fanboy glared at the devices through his crying in annoyance. "Oh, be QUIET!" He growled, and he began to shake. Ugh, why did he buy those dumb things anyway? They wouldn't amount to anything. They were nothing but nuisances.

The super-fan slammed his fists down on the alarm clocks, turning them off quickly, and settled down back under the covers, curling up into a ball. He tensed up, as more tears streamed down his newly unmasked face. For some reason, and angry feeling invaded his mind. For _some_ reason, he wanted to punch someone. Hard.

But he fought the feeling and sentenced himself to bed. For a few hours Fanboy didn't even bother getting up out of bed; or falling back to sleep for that matter. He just lay awake, staring at the empty bed across from him, the images of the accident swirling around his mind, literally flashing before his eyes.

Every time he thought about the horrible accident he would cringe, gripping the blankets tighter in anxiety as every horrible detail filled his vision, from the deep gash in Chum Chum's skull to Yo literally strangling him, was in vivid depiction.

Fanboy whined noisily as he lay curled up under the bundle of blankets, sniffing as tears gushed from his eyes. He tried to think of anything-ANYTHING but that horrible scene. "Just leave me alone…" He whispered as the memories came to him one by one.

_Something_ laughed in amusement. "_Fat chance_!" It cackled in a suspiciously high-pitched voice that sounded much like his own.

The superhero wannabe jolted at the voice and sat up, blinking. "H-Hello?" He called out. Who was that? He could hear that voice, crystal clear! He shook his head. "J-Just my imagination," he thought miserably.

As if on cue, the mysterious child that had made a fleeting disappearance at the accident while Oz was soothing him, appeared right before his eyes.

"_Of course it's your imagination!" _The boy in purple scoffed, propping himself against the foot of the bed, staring at the other male with dead emerald eyes.

Fanboy gasped. Oh...it was his imagination! He could tell that if anyone was anywhere near him. they would be unable to witness this monstrosity, but he could hear it as if it were right in front of his face. No wonder nobody saw the child at the accident but him.

Of course, the presence of the child was unsettling by far. "Please…" he begged. "I don't deserve this…"

"_Oh, yes you do!_" The voice emitting from the child's lips sounded strikingly like his own, but in a strange, mocking tone.

"I don't! I don't deserve this!" He cried, all of sudden picturing the horrible image of the corpse that was his best friend, "Just get out of my head get out my head!"

"_No way_," the child snickered, resting his chin on the mahogany foot of the bed. "_It isn't my decision."_

Realizing that this was a force he could not physically escape, he mentally panicked. "Please, get out of my head!" he begged, clutching his hair, pupils dilating in fear.

The child's lip curled and he shunted into the air, disappearing from Fanboy's sight. However, as soon as it left, memories of the accident replaced it. And those didn't leave at all.

The memories were still fresh in the boy's mind. The memory of seeing his reflection in the orange colored car, the sharp thud of Chum Chum getting smashed… It replayed in Fanboy's mind over, and over, and over, and over, and over, and over…

"GET OUT OF MY HEAD!" Fanboy yelled out suddenly. Fear and sadness turned to anger and fury as Fanboy began beating his temples with his fists. "Get out get out get out get out get out get out GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT!" Every pound left bruises in his flesh as the self-beating continued, "GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT!"

'Knock, knock.'

Fanboy paused, his aching head spinning, his vision blurry. "G-Go away," He called down to the unknown person. He covered himself with the blankets, head throbbing from the self-abuse.

'Knock, knock.'

An surge of rage rose in his chest, and he chucked the pillow at the downstairs door. "I SAID, GO AWAY!" He yelled, now uncharacteristically fuming angry with the unknown intruder.

'KNOCK, KNOCK, KNOCK!'

That did it.

With a groan, Fanboy wiped away his tears, threw the covers off his body, and stomped down the makeshift stairs to the large, yellow door. He threw it open, ready to tell this person off. "What do you want?!" He yelled, surprising himself with the sharp volume of his own voice, and stopped abruptly, for he was instantly face to face with Yo.

Anger was replaced with confusion and slight intimidation. He gasped in astonishment. There were a few seconds of an uncomfortable silence as the two children stared at each other.

"…Hi Fanboy," Yo said in a slightly low voice. Fanboy tensed up and shut his eyes. He certainly wasn't prepared for any attacks he might receive. A few seconds passed and he cracked open one eye. She hadn't killed him yet; now THAT was a shocker.

Yo's arms were clenched at her sides, and appeared to be shaking, as if she was trying to restrain herself from doing something dreadful. Her face was red and tear painted, from all the crying. Her clothes were smudged and dirty. Her hair was a mess, sticking out in all directions. All in all, she looked like Fanboy himself: a heap of pitiful sadness.

"_Oh great, it's the obsessed freak. Kick her out." _Fanboy smacked the side if his temple. What was that imaginary person all about? Why was it so cruel?

"W-What do you want?" Fanboy asked, still fearful of her after what she had done to him during the accident. He took a cautious step back.

Yo forced her eyes to stare up at Fanboy, and blinked, not at all used to seeing him without his mask. The girl bit her lip, noticing that most of his neon green attire was stained with dried blood from his injured cheek. She gazed into his emerald eyes for a moment and held up a hand before speaking. "Wait. I… I want to apologize."

"_You're a little late for that, idiot." _He shook his head, trying to clear his mind while trying to process Yo's words.

He was slightly taken aback at Yo's remorseful action, "A-Apologize? Are you serious?"

"Yeah, I want to apologize. I know I should, so here it is," Yo sighed before clearing her throat. "I'm really sorry I hurt you. I shouldn't have even tried. It… It wasn't your fault Chum Chum…"died"," she said, making air quotes much to his confusion, "and I was stupid to think so. So yeah, I'm sorry for what I did. It was wrong and it will never happen again." Her voice was monotonous.

"O-Oh… Well, thank you for that…" Fanboy thanked the girl, surprised that she had bothered to show her feelings of regret towards him in the first place.

"_Pfft. Sorry? After you told him that Chum Chum should go away? Liar!"_

"Did you really mean what you said?" Fanboy asked quickly. Yo's eyes widened a tad.

"Um… What do you mean?" She asked slowly.

Fanboy gave her a blank stare, "I'm talking about when you said to Kyle, that you wished Chum Chum was gone," Fanboy said it so calmly, so sullenly, that Yo almost thought he was kidding with her. After a few seconds of processing Fanboy's words, she tried to deny it.

"W-What? N-No! I never said that; not at all!" Yo said quickly, rubbing the back of her neck sheepishly.

Fanboy sighed and kicked the wooden floor lightly before speaking, "Yo, I heard you say it. Everyone heard you say it, because you were very loud."

"Fanboy, I never said that!" Yo contradicted. If there were an Olympic for the 'Worst Acting Performances', Yo would have definitely brought home the gold, "Really! I swear…!"

"_She's lying." _For once, the voice was right.

"You're lying," Fanboy stated.

"…Excuse me?"

Fanboy cast his eyes downward and explained, "You're eyes get bigger when you lie."

Tears sprung to Yo's eyes and she sniffed.

"S-So did you really mean what you said?" Fanboy repeated. His voice trembled a bit. "I-I thought you _loved_him!"

Yo's eyes casted downward and she pretended to examine the wood patterns. "Yo…" The Asian girl felt Fanboy's gloved hand on her chin as he lifted her head up, so their eyes could meet.

"Would you really want Chum Chum to d-die?" He swallowed hard. "I thought you loved him."

Yo stared into Fanboy's emerald eyes for a moment before stuttering, "I… I uh… I'm n-not…" A sick feeling churned her insides and she went pale. "I just, I just don't want you to be upset over him all the time. I don't want you to obsess over it."

"Obsess over it?" He asked softly, before he repeated in a much louder tone of voice, "Obsess over it?! What do you mean by that, huh? What, would you not expect me to be upset at all?! He's my BEST FRIEND!"

Yo froze and stiffened, "B-But, he's not-" she paused and swallowed thickly as he gaped at her.

"Not what? He's not what?"

Yo bit her lip and said nothing. She couldn't tell him yet. He wasn't ready. Yet, she felt horrible keeping such vile information about the only person he ever cared for from him.

"Ugh. He's not gone forever, I know," the boy sighed sadly. "But he'll always be with me, right here." He patted his chest, and Yo had the urge to shout "_Point to your head!"_

Instead, she forced out, "W-What I meant was...um..."

_"_Say," the male interrupted,"You don't seem very upset about Chum Chum, but then why did you try to strangle me at the accident?" _Why do you think? It's your fault! If you hadn't helped your friend sooner, he wouldn't be dead! And Yo wouldn't be upset! _There was no hesitation in the boy's answer, "Is it because it's my fault he's gone?"

"…I-It's not really! I-It isn't your fault. At least, not in the way you think," she tried to lighten.

"Oh, please!" He rolled his eyes. "If I had assisted him to get across the street quicker, none of this would have happened. He still would be here, and neither of us would be going through this!" Fanboy spat. "And it's on me! Forever! Literally! Look!" He shoved his violet gloves in Yo's face. "His blood's stained on me," he motioned to his green leotard, indicating to the blood that of course, only he could see.

Yo was silent, giving on nod here and there as he babbled on and on about trying to rid himself of the crimson. She didn't know what to think. Technically, neither of them would've gone through this if he had never created Chum Chum in the first place, but that couldn't be helped now.

"-And what's more is that ya'll are so aloof! Nobody will tell me anything, not even you."

Yo shook her head clear. "About what?"

Fanboy's eyes darted around for a moment. "While I was with those doctor people," he said lowly, "I kept trying to look at Chum Chum, but when I looked to where he was, he disappeared!" He shook his head in wonder. "Why, I imagine..."

"..." There was absolutely no way that he was ready to hear the news about what is best friend truly was all this time. And Yo certainly didn't want to be the person to tell him.

The two were silent for a few moments before Fanboy decided to speak up again, eager to change the subject. "S-So, why aren't you at school?"

Yo let out a gloomy laugh and tossed her raven hair to the side. "I guess the same reason why you're not at school!" She said. _She_ _just wanted to see you cry._

Fanboy bit his lip. "Y-Yeah, I guess so," He could hardly control himself as he held the door open a little wider and he scooted to the side a little. "Do you want to come in then?" Usually he wouldn't act in such a manner, but he'd been craving company more than usual lately.

Now it was Yo's turn to be slightly surprised. This was definitely a first. The boy would normally avoid her and keep her locked out, but now she was welcome to go in. Was it because of Chum Chum's absence? Most likely.

She considered the invitation, and almost happily said yes, but she stopped. She had seen him with the paramedics. How wild and unstable he looked, how…insane.

"N-No thanks…" Yo mumbled, backing away a bit, ashamed she was scared.

Fanboy raised an eyebrow in confusion, "No…?"

She couldn't go in. Lord knows what he would do to her. "I can't."

"Well, why not?" Fanboy asked, with slight hurt in his voice. He wanted to be with someone. If Yo were the only person who tolerated him, well, she would have to do. He took a step closer to the girl, causing her to take a couple steps back. "What's going on here?" He asked almost angrily, putting his hands on his frail hips. "You came all the way out here, but when I invite you in, you decline? Just like that?"

"I… Um… I just can't-" She stuttered, backing away some more, trying to come up with a proper excuse. It's not that she suspected him of doing anything dangerous, however, he was very unpredictable. And that was never a good thing. "I, uh... I can't be alone with you!" She finally answered, and she sped off.

Fanboy stared at her retreating back, confusion and hurt bubbling up inside of him. "…THAT WAS YOUR EXCUSE?" He yelled at her disappearing form. "That's not true! That's such a lie! You're just…! Just…" How could she leave him like this so suddenly? After all, _she_ was the one who had come to him in the first place! Why leave oh-so suddenly?

"Forget it Fanboy!" Her voice grew softer as the distance between the two increased and he detected the hint of a sob in her voice.

For a moment, Fanboy stood at the door, trembling with rage and betrayal, his hands clenched into fists. "It's me isn't it…?" He whispered, half to himself, before collapsing to the wooden floor. He knew the answer; he wasn't stupid.

Four days later…

The death of his best friend had really taken its toll on Fanboy this time. Usually when something unsettling happened, it came and went, hurt him, and then he'd move on. At least he'd have someone to comfort him.

On this occasion, he had no one. The hurt peculiarly seemed to hang about his emotions, to settle in, to become a part of.

As stated before, it had been a couple of days after Chum Chum's death. Such a tragic day that was, for Fanboy.

During that time, Fanboy could not find a way to cope with the depression that filled his void. He had skipped school during that time as well, not wanting to interact with any of his classmates. He didn't want to face them, especially after the way he'd acted. In him mind, his costume was stained with his best friend's blood, and he had desperately tried scrubbing the stuff out, but to no avail. It didn't show as much on his violet gloves and cape, but faded crimson remained on his green attire.

Fanboy did have to return to school one point or another. He was so exhausted, though. During the time away from school, at night, he would have horrible nightmares. The nightmare right before school was the absolute worst imagining Fanboy had ever experienced. Terrified screams echoed throughout the water tower home, Fanboy always awakening in a cold sweat, terror surging through his veins. The nightmares haunted him repeatedly, and they were always the same tragic one.

This particular dream was the most vivid out of them all. In the dream, Chum Chum was drowning into a sea of black blood while Fanboy tried to save him, but couldn't. As Chum Chum would sink deeper and deeper, his arms and legs would literally rip out of their sockets, and blood would shoot out in harsh spurts. Again, Fanboy would scream in pure agony and try to help his dying friend, but his feet always seemed to be stuck. Too terrified to move, Fanboy would watch his friend suffer. He could smell the coppery scent of Chum Chum's blood; hear the high-pitched yet slightly muffled screams of misery; watch his friend's guts spill out among the sea of blackness.

His innocence was forever shattered. Fanboy sobbed openly after he woke up, his little body curled up in his blankets, rocking back and forth with fear. His eyes would twitch, and his body flinch and tense up at every little creak and noise from about. His eyes darted around the darkened scenery of his home, strangled gasps emerging from his throat before hiccuping sobs. Shadows lurched and leaned in towards him, almost as if they were reaching out to grab him. He had wrapped his lanky arms around his knees and cried as paranoia began to take over his mind, chipping off rungs of his sanity ladder. Those dreams were simply too much for him to handle. Because of the horror of his twisted imaginings, Fanboy was simply too petrified to sleep. He would lie awake at night, clutching at his little form, as the natural routine of noises becoming sick, twisted, and distorted in his mind. This couldn't go on…

**If you can, please critique it.**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

'Beep… Beep... Beep…'

'What time is it?'

'It's seven o'clock, and today is?'

'Friday…! Friday…! Friday…! Friday…!'

Fanboy buried his face in his pillow. "Ugh… No… I don't want to get up…"

'Come on! You're gonna be late!'

"I can't!" Tears were already brimming at Fanboy's bloodshot eyes. The nightmares were horrible last night, as stated eight paragraphs before this one. The poor eleven-year-old had only gotten two hours of sleep that night, and not eating much had clearly done its toll on him as well. His form was almost skeletal, due to not having an appetite over the last week.

'Why can't you?'

Fanboy covered his face with his hands as his shoulders began to shake, "I…I just can't go today, okay…?

'Well, why not?'

'Yeah, why not?'

"…Because… Wait, why am I talking to you? You're just clocks…!" He stumbled out of his bed and shut off the two alarm clocks.

As Fanboy walked around his home, his senses seemed to not function properly. His vision was fuzzy, and he didn't seem to hear anything. It was almost as if he was underwater. Ugh… He slithered down the slide that led from his makeshift bedroom to the TV room and landed with a tired thud.

"…Huh…?" Oh, he had landed on the sketchy rug carpet instead of the couch. With a yawn, Fanboy almost went to sleep right there on the floor, but, remembering the nightmares, he stood up, and walked to the door, not even bothering to make himself breakfast. "Don't want to be late."

After a blurry hike through town, and avoiding the accident scene, Fanboy had made it to school, luckily just before the late-bell rang. With a sigh, he pushed the wooden door that led to his classroom open, and unsteadily walked inside.

It was the first time he had been to school without his mask, and he could feel stares burning through the back of his head from his classmates. He still wore the costume, but he would never wear the headpiece again; it was with Chum Chum now.

As Fanboy took his seat at the back of the classroom, Yo looked at him from her desk at the front of the classroom in shock. He looked so disheveled! Not his face in general, but the features that lack of sleep, eating, and the newfound case of depression had caused.

He was paler, much paler than he usually was; he had gone about two shades lighter. It was almost a sickly color. She noticed the faded bloodstains on his costume and cringed. There were very dark bags under his eyes, due to the many nights he had been scared-stiff, too afraid to go back to sleep. He was slumped over and seemed to be on the verge of passing out.

Their 5th grade teacher, Mr. Mufflin walked into the classroom, disrupting Yo's thoughts as he muttered in a monotone voice, "Twelve years 'till retirement, twelve years 'till retirement… HEY! CALM DOWN YOU MONSTERS, AND TAKE YOUR SEATS!" causing all the children to jump to his abrupt shouting.

Fanboy could barely keep awake as Mr. Mufflin took roll call. As his teacher continued, Fanboy kept fading in and out of consciousness, shaking his head clear every few minutes. It was just getting harder and harder for him to stay awake. With a sleepy moan, he slowly slid out of his desk and fell to the floor with a thunk. Yo stared at him in alarm and horror from her desk.

"HUH? What was that?" Mr. Mufflin asked. He glared down at the eleven-year-old, who was sprawled on the floor before shouting, "PURPLE KID!"

At the sound of Mr. Mufflin's voice, Fanboy jerked awake and stared at his teacher's old-fashioned shoes, which were the only things he could see at his eye-level. After a moment's realization, Fanboy's eyes widened and he jumped back up, unfortunately striking his head against the desk. This caused his classmates giggle and point as he stumbled back into his seat, dazed, his head reeling.

Mr. Mufflin placed his hands on the corner of the boy's desk and leaned in close to Fanboy's face, causing the boy to sink down into his chair in slight fear. "What makes you think that you have the authority to sleep in my class?"

Fanboy wasn't sure. "B-Because… I'm tired," He whispered.

"Never let me catch you sleeping in my class again, or you will be severely punished, do you understand?" Mr. Mufflin growled.

Fanboy nodded his head in a daze, too tired to think straight. He answered with a simple, "Uh-huh… Y-Yeah," and stared at his desk.

"Good, now stop slacking and slouching and pay attention!" His teacher commanded angrily on his way back up to his desk.

Yo looked back gave Fanboy a sorrowful glance, but he didn't seem to notice it. She became aware of an empty desk next to him; it was most likely Chum Chum's.

Somehow, without Mr. Mufflin noticing, Yo managed to sneak back to the back of the classroom and take a seat at Chum Chum's empty desk. As she sat down, she gave Fanboy a little wave and a smile, and he gave her a weak grin in return.

The rest of the day was a blur for Fanboy. He was too tired to pay attention, let alone bother the teacher like he normally did. Instead, he sat glued to his seat, a blank stare on his face, almost falling asleep multiple times.

Other students who hadn't known about Chum Chum's recent "death" kept stealing glances at Fanboy, wanting to see what made him like this, where Chum Chum was, and why Yo was seating in the missing boy's desk. Mr. Mufflin had to keep yelling at the kids to face forward in their seats.

"Pst! Fanboy?"

"…"

"Fanboy?"

"…"

"…Fanboy!"

Fanboy jerked awake in an instant, rubbed his eyes, and stared at his friend. Kyle looked back at him with an unimpressed glare and shook his head in warning, "It would be best to stop falling asleep in class; you'll get in trouble for sure!"

Fanboy gave the young British wizard a blank expression, nodding slowly, "Mm-hum…"

Kyle looked at Fanboy quizzically, "Are… Are you feeling very well? You look quite under the weather."

Fanboy shrugged his shoulders, "Mm… I'm fine."

Yo leaned over to Fanboy and carefully tapped him on the shoulder. The effect was immediate. With a slight, quiet yelp, Fanboy jerked back, slapped Yo's hand and twisted away from her.

The Asian girl withdrew her hand and gaped at her friend, who shook softly. He had a wild, mistrusting look in his eyes, his pupils like needlepoints. His arms wrapped around his slender frame tightly as he stared back at the girl. "D-Don't… Don't touch me…"

Yo's courage was faltered a bit, but she was determined to figure out why Fanboy was all of a sudden so wary of everything. "Fanboy, please," she whispered, "tell me what's wrong! I can probably help-!"

Fanboy shook his head quickly at her plead, "N-No, don't. I'm fine. Don't worry about me."

"But… Fanboy, come on! You look so sick, a-and tired! Have you been sleeping okay? Have you even been eating for that matter? Have you… Have you…" Yo trailed off into silence as Fanboy stared ahead silently in a stiff manner.

"Yo," Fanboy whispered, not bothering to face her worried gaze, "I'm fine. I can take care of myself. I understand your concern, and I appreciate the gesture, but I don't need any help, so you don't need to waste your time."

The girl sighed, defeated, and stared down at her desk. She distinguished that instant that Fanboy was not going to be easily reasoned with, "Oh, never mind. I can't help being a little concerned about you, Fanboy. So, just please take of yourself, okay?"

Kyle, who just so happened to be eavesdropping on the two, shook his head at Fanboy in a disapproving way. He turned back around in his seat, writing down more notes, as his teacher read them off the board. With a shake of his head, the Brit whispered, "You shouldn't do things like that. It isn't healthy."

Fanboy shrugged as if it couldn't possibly matter.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

After a couple more hour of torture, the school bell finally rang, signaling the beginning of recess. All the kids pumped their fists in the air, cheered, literally flew from their seats, and charged for the door, all except for Yo, Fanboy, and Mr. Mufflin. Kyle did eventually get up from his seat after the hyperactive kids left, making his down the hall and to the library, muttering something about 'hazardous numbskulls.'

Yo turned her gaze from Kyle to Fanboy, who had his head on his desk and arms covering his face, "Are you coming Fanboy?" Yo whispered to him as she left her seat. "Maybe you could rest on the benches or something!" His only response was a slight shaking of his head and a small mumble she could only make out as "Nuh-uh."

"O-Okay, well… See you later!" Yo said, at an attempt to sound cheerful, but miserably failing. She quickly walked towards the door, part of her wanting to stay away from the derelict person that was her friend. She walked out, shutting the door behind her softly.

Fanboy had watched her leave, and as soon as the door shut, his head fell back to the desk. Ugh. He was beyond tired. He had practically been unconscious the whole class time, waking up and falling asleep at random times.

Yo stood outside the classroom door, not sure what to do next. Her hands trembled and tears gathered at her eyes as she truly recognized the situation at hand. Fanboy was… dying… on the inside at least. Yo had seen every-

"Hey, Yo?"

A new voice interrupted the Asian girl's thoughts. Her head jerked up and she managed to force a smile on her face, "Oh, hi guys!"

Her three friends, Francine, Lupe, and Cher ran up to her, "Hey, Yo! Are you like, feeling okay? You weren't here at school for like, almost the whole week!" Francine asked in a hurry.

Yo smiled uncomfortably and rubbed the back of her neck, "Oh, that… Well, I felt awful after Chum Chum died, so I just needed to spend some time alone to think some things through. That's why I wasn't here."

Lupe shook her head, "Eh, that's sound really unhealthy. Maybe you should go see a doctor."

"It's called a Psychiatrist!" Cher corrected.

"Meh," Lupe shrugged.

This time Yo shook her head. She sighed and rubbed her forehead tiredly. "It's okay. I mean, I think I'll be able to live through it. I'm going to miss Chum Chum so much though." Yo trembled a bit before continuing, "A-And if I miss Chum Chum that much, I can't imagine what Fanboy is feeling about all this! He's been a best friend to Chum Chum since like forever! I mean, did you guys see him in class? He looked so depressed!" Her friends took worried glances at one another as she went on. "I-I mean, he almost looked like a zombie!"

Francine crossed her arms over her chest, "Uh-huh, well, duh! He's like, super weird!" Yo sent one of her most menacing glares toward Francine. "Well, it's true! That guy is like, off his rocker!"

"Yeah, maybe you should just… keep your distance from him." Cher said, putting a hand on Yo's shoulders.

"Why? I mean, I tried to ask what was wrong, but he just kind of shut down when I tried to talk to him," Yo sadly informed the other girls.

"Eh, that's probably Fanboy's way of telling you that he wants to be alone," Lupe pointed out.

"By doing… What? Slapping my hand?" Yo asked coldly, rolling her eyes as she did, "Gee, doesn't that sound a little weird…?" The Hispanic girl shrugged. "Eh, no promises, but I think you should stay away from him."

"B-But don't you think we have to help? He looked just awful in class! He looked so scared when I touched him. When I did, he freaked out on me."

"Well, of course he did. What do you expect? Well, like, where is he now?" Francine asked, rolling her eyes to herself.

Yo sighed heavily and jabbed a thumb in the classroom door's direction. "He's still inside."

The four girls stood in silence for a moment, trying to analyze the situation. Then Cher rang in her thoughts, "Are… Are you worried that if he gets worse, he'll commit-"

"NO! No, no, that's impossible!" Yo interrupted quickly. She waved her hand and gave a halfhearted laugh, "Come on, this is Fanboy we're talking about here; he would never do something like that! He wouldn't!"

Back in the classroom, Fanboy tried to catch up on his sleep. He knew that recess was only about fifteen minutes, and that wasn't as nearly as enough time, but… It was something. With a yawn, he covered his face with his arms and tried to fall asleep. He felt safer in the sunlit classroom. It wasn't dark, or creepy. No alarming shadows. Instead of hearing floorboards creak, and unexplainable groans, Fanboy could hear the faint sound of children playing outside, and with Mr. Mufflin in the room, he felt that no harm would come while he slept.

Meanwhile, Mr. Mufflin was watching. With an mean ol' sense of heart, he waited until the boy was in a sleepy faraway state before walking over next to him, lean down, and yelling, "What are you still doing here?" Fanboy woke up with a start, and gripped the sides of the desk with his hands. He slowly looked up at his frowning teacher in a woozy hazed expression. "What…?"

M. Mufflin shook his head, and pointed to the door, "Leave the classroom, now. This is the only time of the day where I can get some peace around here, and I'm not going to let you ruin it."

Without Mr. Mufflin knowing, Fanboy clenched his fists, his teeth grinding together. He had had enough. With a menacing glare on his exhausted face, Fanboy looked up at his teacher and gave a little growl, "O-Oh, yeah? Well, t-this is the only time of day w-where I can get any peace! I had a-absolutely N-NO sleep last night, or the night before that, or the night b-before that!"

Mr. Mufflin waved his hand as if Fanboy were a pesky fly and looked away, "And who's fault would that be, huh? Just shut up and go outside! Why don't you just go play with the Talking Raccoon, or something?"

Hurt started to bubble up inside of Fanboy, along with anger, sadness, and unfaithfulness, replacing love and kindness. This was an adult treating him like nothing, like dirt. Fanboy could take it from other kids, but from his own teacher; oh, that is where he draws the line.

"He's dead."

When Fanboy spoke that sentence, Mr. Mufflin paused his speech and raised an eyebrow, "What?"

Fanboy growled, tears gathering at his eyes, "I s-said, 'HE'S DEAD!"

Mr. Mufflin froze and stared blankly at the seething eleven-year old.

"What? Why don't you believe me? Well, you be-better believe me! It's the truth! Chum Chum is gone! H-He's d-dead, Mr. M-Mufflin, and I'll never see him a-again!" Fanboy hit his head on the desk, "A-And as far as I know, it's my fault he's gone." He whispered, not caring if Mr. Mufflin hear that last sentence.

"…"

"…"

"What do you mean 'dead'?"

"I'm… I'm leave… leaving." Fanboy muttered to his teacher, who still stood at a halt. The young super hero stumbled out of his desk and clambered towards the wooden classroom door, pushing against it and hesitantly stepped out.

Fanboy was instantly face to face with the four girls, who were ironically just discussing him. The moment they caught sight of him, they stared at him with wide and terrified eyes. Lupe gasped softly, placing a hand over her mouth, Francine took a step back, and Cher looked at the ground. Yo simply bit her lip. Fanboy shook his head in a daze, turned to his right, and started for the double doors that led to the cafeteria. "Wow, you were right! He does look awful! Geez, when is the last time he took actual caring of himself?"

Those two comments made Fanboy stop abruptly and whip around to face the girls. "W-What did you just say?" He asked with a hurt look on his face, mixed in with slight anger and annoyance. He took an unsteady step towards the girls.

The four girls looked at each other in slight panic. They had not expected him to hear that. The boy took a shaky step towards them and put his gloved hands on his hips. "I-If you want to insult me, y-you can do so to my face!" He snapped angrily, glaring harshly at the shock-stricken girls.

It was Yo who shook her head quickly and said, "We weren't; n-not at all, Fanboy! We didn't mean it like that! I swear! We were just uh…" She rubbed the back of her neck, embarrassed that they were caught, and that she couldn't think of an appropriate excuse.

"W-Why are you talking about me anyways?" Fanboy asked, quite exasperated. He did want to go outside and snooze on the benches, but now with this situation, he just couldn't let it pass.

"We're not talking about you Fanboy! Relax!" Francine snapped at him.

Undeterred, Fanboy took three more stumbling steps towards the slightly shorter girl and thrust a shaky finger at her face, causing her to draw back cautiously. "I-Is that so? Is it really? NO! Well, I know that's not t-true! I heard w-what you said about me when I walked past you guys! So can you just please just keep your silly comments to y-yourself?"

Francine growled quietly and went face-to-face with Fanboy, them being two only inches apart. With a cruel laugh she said, "Oh, PUH-LEEZE! You stupid weirdo! Who are you to tell me what to do? You aren't the boss of me! You're just a pathetic loser!"

Fanboy took a small step back when his vision started to blur by a couple of tears. He bit his lip as it started to tremble, as a way to prevent him from sobbing in front of the girls.

Francine noticed his reaction and smirked, "What? You don't like that? Aw… What? Are you seriously like going to cry?"

Lupe placed a hand on Francine's shoulder, and attempted to calm the girl down. "Francine! Just let it go!" She soothed.

Francine made no effort to listen to her friend and merely brushed her hand off of her shoulder. Now that she was riled up, there was no calming her down, "You seriously have problems Fanboy! You've freaking everyone out with your little issues! And-Ugh, you look horrible! Haven't you looked in the mirror for…? Aw, geez, I don't know…The past month!?" The girl stepped even closer and poked a finger at his chest. Fanboy's eyes widened immediately, and as if as relying on instinct, he smacked her hand away, just as he had done to Yo.

Francine withdrew her hand and stiffened with anger as Fanboy trembled. "Don't…y-you dare t-touch me…" He said slowly, making sure his presage would be understood. "Don't…"

Not surprisingly, Francine had expected Fanboy to back down from her. She was a girl with rank, and now that this… This mistake was staring at her with such a tired yet bold stare, the girl felt that he showed more dominance.

This angered Francine, and when she was furious, she made it clear that she was not to be messed with. With a cruel smile tugging at her lips, Francine stepped forward, ignoring Yo, Cher, Lupe's pleads, and heavily smacked the side his head, right in the temple. He let out a slight gasp and then a whimper of pain but he did not back down.

For a few seconds, all was silent. The only sound that was heard was the heavy breathing from Francine and Fanboy. At the moment of pure madness, Fanboy breath quickened and tears smarted from his eyes.

"Hurt her." The voice came from nowhere, but it was so clear that Fanboy was sure the other girls heard it too. Without a second thought, he obeyed the voice's command.

He snapped. Gripping Francine's shoulders and lifting one of his legs, he kicked her stomach with all his might. With a gasp Francine fell to the ground, arms wrapped around her torso, coughing and gasping, for the wind was knocked out of her.

"Francine!" Yo gasped, bending down to help her friend, as did Lupe and Cher. Yo looked up just time to see Fanboy racing for the double doors. Before exiting, he looked back, and his eyes met Yo's. Tears were streaming down his face, and he was shaking. Then, a moment later, he disappeared behind the said doors.

Yo stared at the double doors, even after Fanboy had left. She felt something warm and wet on her cheek and realized that without even realizing it, she was crying as well.

Meanwhile, Francine grasped her stomach tightly; still gasping for air, while Lupe and Cher patted her back. "*Gasp* Ugh. *Cough* H-He- *Cough* He's c-crazy! *Cough* *gasp* H-He's g-gone *gasp* bonkers! *Cough*" Francine yelled, struggling for breath.

Yo sat stiffly, gaze locked upon the double doors, as if she expected Fanboy to reappear. She knew that wouldn't happen, yet she attempted deep down to believe that he would. After sitting silently for a few moments, she analyzed Francine's words. Her fists clenched tightly with rage, her face grew a bright red, and she spat out furiously, "Francine…. You are such an IDIOT!"

Cher and Lupe gaped at Yo, as did Francine, who still coughed uncontrollably. Yo walked over to Francine and leaned in close to her face, "You are the one who caused all the trouble just now. All because of you! Because you just won't keep your idiotic mouth shut! You were out of control! You said all those mean things to Fanboy because you think that you are above everyone else! This all happened because you are a snobby brat, and because you wanted to be mean as possible! That's what you wanted to do! This is your fault! It's all you!"

Francine didn't miss a beat, and she responded with, "*cough* Well SO-RRY! *cough*, She smirked, "Not really though. I wouldn't apologize to you, or him! Not after what he did to me! Your little boyfriend is a freak! *cough* He hurt you and he hurt ME! Just think, if every person were to bump into that sicko, what do you like, think would happen, you moron? *cough* He's like, going to hurt everyone who touches him!"

"YOU DON'T THINK I'M AWARE OF THAT? I KNOW THAT!" Yo shot back, "That's why I want to help him! I want to help him get over whatever problem he has so he can get better!"

"Help HIM?" Francine laughed, "Yeah RIGHT! He's already an insane weirdo! I saw him, you saw him, they saw him," Francine gestured back to Lupe and Cher and continued, "He's already gone, Yo. You can try everything you can to bring that crazy, mental freak back, but he's already gone. There's nothing that YOU can do!"

"He NEEDS my help!" Yo yelled, not believing that one of her best girl friends could act so evilly. "I'm going to help him whether he likes it or not! I mean, it's not like he invited me to-" She stopped abruptly and immediately thought of the scene from just a few days ago.

"…Hi Fanboy," Yo said in a slightly low voice. Fanboy tensed up and shut his eyes. He certainly wasn't prepared for any attacks he might receive. A few seconds passed. She hadn't killed him yet; now THAT was a shocker.

Yo's arms were clenched at her sides, and appeared to be shaking, as if she was trying to restrain herself from doing something dreadful. Her face was red and tear painted, from all the crying. Her clothes were smudged and dirty. Her hair was a mess, sticking out in all directions. Generally, she looked like Fanboy himself; a heap of pitiful sadness.

"W-What do you want?" Fanboy asked, still fearful of her after what she had done to him during the accident. He took a cautious step back.

Yo forced her eyes to stare up at Fanboy, and blinked, still not used to seeing him without his mask. The girl bit her lip, noticing that most of his neon green attire was stained with dried blood. She gazed into his emerald eyes for a moment and held up a hand before speaking. "Wait. I… I want to apologize."

Fanboy was slightly taken aback at Yo's remorseful action, "A-Apologize? Are you serious?"

"Yeah, I want to apologize. I know I should, so here it is," Yo sighed before clearing her throat. "I'm really sorry I hurt you. I shouldn't have even tried. It… It wasn't your fault Chum Chum died, and I was stupid to think so. So yeah, I'm sorry for what I did. It was wrong and it will never happen again."

"O-Oh… Well, thank you for that…" Fanboy thanked the girl, a little surprised that she had bothered to show her feelings of regret towards him in the first place.

"Did you really mean what you said?" Fanboy asked quickly. Yo's eyes widened a tad.

"Um… What do you mean?" She asked slowly.

Fanboy gave her a blank stare, "I'm talking about when you said to Kyle, that you wished it were me dead instead of Chum Chum," Fanboy said it so calmly, so sullenly, that Yo almost thought he was kidding with her. After a few seconds of processing Fanboy's words, she tried to deny it.

"W-What? N-No! I never said that; not at all!" Yo said quickly, rubbing the back of her neck sheepishly.

Fanboy sighed and kicked the wooden floor lightly before speaking, "Yo, I heard you say it. Everyone heard you say it, because you were very loud."

"Fanboy, I never said that!" Yo contradicted. If there were an Olympic for the 'Worst Acting Performances', Yo would have definitely brought home the gold, "Really! I swear…!"

"You're lying," Fanboy stated.

"…Excuse me?"

Fanboy cast his eyes downward and explained, "You're eyes get bigger when you're dishonest, Yo. They got bigger when you denied what you said."

Tears sprung to Yo's eyes and she sniffed.

"S-So did you really mean what you said?" Fanboy asked once more. His voice trembled a bit.

Yo's eyes casted downward and she pretended to examine the wood patterns. "Yo…" The Asian girl felt Fanboy's gloved hand on her chin as he lifted her head up, so their eyes could meet.

"Would you really want me to take Chum Chum's place and I die?"

Yo stared into Fanboy's emerald eyes for a moment before stuttering, "I… I-I uh… I'm n-not…"

"Well, to tell you the honest truth, Yo: I would take his place!"

Yo froze and stiffened, "W-What…?"

Fanboy nodded solemnly and said, "Yeah, I mean if I could just rewind this whole thing and start over, I would have gladly taken Chum Chum's place."

"Oh, is that so? D-Do you really think you would've taken Chum Chum's place?" Yo asked.

Fanboy nodded, "Yeah."

"Why?"

There was no hesitation in the boy's answer, "…Because it's my fault he's gone."

"…I-It's not really-!"

"Oh, please! If I had assisted him to get across the street quicker, none of this would have happened. He still would be here, and neither of us would be going through this!" Fanboy spat. Yo was silent. She didn't know what to think.

The two were silent for a few moments before Fanboy decided to speak up again, eager to change the subject. "S-So, why aren't you at school?"

Yo let out a gloomy laugh and tossed hair to the side. "I guess the same reason why you're not at school!" She said.

Fanboy bit his lip. "Y-Yeah, I guess so," He could hardly control himself as he held the door open a little wider and he scooted to the side a little. "Do you want to come in then?"

Now it was Yo's turn to be slightly surprised. This was the first time she was actually ALLOWED in the Fanlair. The boys would normally avoid her and keep her locked out, but now she was actually welcome to go in. She considered the invitation, and almost happily said yes, but she stopped.

"N-No thanks…" Yo mumbled, backing away a bit.

Fanboy raised an eyebrow in confusion, "No…?"

She couldn't go in. Chum Chum wouldn't have wanted her to go in. She didn't really want to go in now anyways. The place was just too memorable of her deceased friend. "I can't."

"Well, why not?" Fanboy asked, with slight hurt in his voice. He wanted to be with someone. If Yo was the only person, well, she would have to do. He took a step closer to Yo, causing her to take a couple steps back.

"I… Um… I just can't-" She stuttered, backing away some more, trying to come up with a proper excuse. "I… uh, I can't be alone with ah… a boy!" She finally answered, and she sped off.

As Yo sprinted down the street, she heard Fanboy yell something at her. She turned around for a brief moment and yelled with all her might, "FORGET IT FANBOY!" She wasn't sure that he heard that, but she kept running away from him and that water-tower house of memories.

As Yo ran, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Fanboy collapse to the wooden floor, sobbing his eyes out. It was such a pitiful sight that she almost wanted to turn around. But… she couldn't. She was a coward. It made her seem like she was the bad guy.

"…"

He had invited her. He had, Yo realized it. He had distinctively given her a chance to ease both of their pain. It was more than just an invite to hang out; it was a small chance to make things better, yet she had pushed him away.

Yo had felt so horrible about what had happened at the death scene: her trying to strangle Fanboy, so she apologized. It eased his pain about her, but not about Chum Chum. He was still overcome with sadness and depression about his deceased best friend. Yo had been a coward, not accepting his proposal, and just running away. She remembered Fanboy's hurt face when she sent him her regrets, when she yelled at him to just forget it, she wouldn't help him.

Francine noticed Yo's silence and finally gained the strength to stand up. She smirked at Yo's blank and now saddened expression. "He did encourage you to help him, didn't he?" Francine whispered. Yo didn't answer. Lupe and Cher looked at each other in sadness. "It's too late now Yo. You screwed up that invite, and that like, obviously screwed him up. You know that, don't you?"

Yo glared at Francine and finding her voice, she snapped, "No! There is nothing, Francine, which you can do to change my mind. Fanboy is sick, Francine. He's sick like as in a fever. He's dying! So as his friend, I'm going to try to do everything I can in my power to help him. I made a big mistake before, but I hope that I can make up for it. I'm going to help him, invitation or no invitation. I'm going to help him whether he likes it or not! No, scratch that. I'm going to help him whether YOU like it or not! There's nothing you can do to stop me!"

Lupe and Cher smiled at Yo in admiration, but were instantly cut off at Francine's voice, "Well you can help that sicko somewhere else! I don't want either you or him around me! Especially around my friends! What would they think?"

Lupe and Cher looked at each other and nodded in understanding. But their understanding was not in what Francine had said. Lupe took a deep breath and spoke, her voice loud and clear, "What I eh-think, is that you, Francine are a selfish person. Cher and I-eh both think that. Isn't that-eh right, Cher?"

Cher nodded in approval and waved her fists in the air, "Hey, that's right! If you have such a problem with that poor boy, than you are the one who needs help!"

Francine's face went scarlet in fury, sputtering in confusion and anger as the two girls walked over to Yo's side. With grim smiles on their faces, they walked towards the double doors, hand in hand, leaving Francine alone in the cold, dark hallway.

Francine stood silently for a moment, the only sounds penetrating from her was the whistling sound of steam coming from her ears. (Hey, it's a cartoon remember?) Her hands balled up into fists, her teeth grinding quietly as she stood there in stony anger. This was horrible! Her friends had ditched her! All because of Yo! If she hadn't wanted to help that little freak, this wouldn't have…

Wait. This wasn't Yo's fault. This was Fanboy's fault. Francine nodded quickly, a cruel smile on her face. Yeah, this was entirely that little dork's fault. If he hadn't been acting like such an Emo, this wouldn't have happened! She chuckled quietly under her breath at the thought.

Of course, Francine was beyond wrong in stating whose fault this whole situation was. It was not Lupe, nor Cher. They had done absolutely nothing wrong this whole time. It certainly wasn't Yo's fault, though she was determined it was. It was not, though.

Many strange things happen to humans, to make them think that they are at fault. It wasn't Fanboy's fault, though deep down, he was mentally positive that he was at fault for this whole situation. Fanboy's conscious kept whispering to him that this whole awful escapade was his fault entirely, and he was drowning with guilt because of it. Nor was it Boog's fault. A lot would say it was, and do be honest, in the purest moment of honesty, perhaps it was. He, after all, was the one who hit Chum Chum with his car.

However, the true villain, the one who caused all this insanity, the one who caused Boog to crash into the boy, was tragedy. That tragedy is the horrible of all horrible things… It is the thing that caused it. No, it is the thing that is causing it. Causing it? As in present tense?

Yes, this story isn't over yet, the troubles not complete. The tragedy isn't over yet, so stay in your seat. …Hey, that rhymed!


	5. Chapter 5

**- Chapter 5**

Fanboy sprinted through the school playground, not caring how tired he was, and ignored the stares coming from the other children. His feet pounded on the black pavement as he ran past the jungle gym, past the slides, through the swings, trying to avoid crashing into his classmates.

Onlookers who were playing cards at the lunch tables gaped at him as he zoomed past. He panted, tears streaming down his face for the umpteenth time. He used a violet-gloved hand to wipe away the liquid, for his vision was clouding up. It was that his vision was blocked, that the next scene would never have happened if it weren't.

'What is wrong with me?' Fanboy thought to himself as he ran on. 'How could I have kicked her like that? Why…? WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?'

Fanboy let out a sob and pushed open the back door of the school. He just wanted to be alone with his thoughts; was that too much to ask? He needed to be alone in a silent, concealing place. 'I can't believe I actually hurt someone! Oh, they all probably hate me now! I'm going to be in so much trouble!'

Wiping his eyes, Fanboy darted inside. He barely made it four feet into the building before crashing into something. With a yelp he slid to the hard concrete ground. He heard someone else let out an intake of breath followed by a rather feminine, "Oomph!"

Fanboy lay sprawled on the ground for a few moments, shock, exhaustion, and paranoia spreading through him like a fire engulfing a field of dry grass. His head throbbed and ached along with the rest of his sore body as it came into contact with the floor. With a sob, Fanboy halfheartedly brought his lanky knees up to his chest and hid his face. "L-Leave me al-alone…" He whispered, ready to snap.

"Whoa, are you alright?" A woman's voice questioned him. The voice… sounded concerned, almost motherly, but Fanboy refused to look up, refusing to trust anyone.

"Hey… Are you hurt?" Fanboy felt a hand on his shoulder. It was that single touch that made him zoom up like a rocket, jumping up, and backing away a few feet in fear. He stared at the person he had crashed into: none other than the bubbly Nurse Lady Pam. She was on her knees, dusting off her uniform skirt. She smiled up at him.

"Are you okay there? I apologize for bumping into you, but I was in a hurry! I had a distress call!" Nurse Lady Pam explained in a heroic voice, brushing her brown hair off to the side. She adjusted her large black glasses and frowned at the shaking boy, who had his arms tightly wrapped around his torso. He breathed heavily, and sobbed loudly.

Nurse Lady Pam stood up quickly and moved over to the boy, causing him to back away. She reached out a delicate hand towards him and said, "Oh, geez! I'm so sorry! Did I hurt you?" Fanboy shook his head and let out a cry as she touched his wrist, taking his hand gently in her own. "There, there, don't cry. You're a superhero aren't you?"

Fanboy shook his head once more, but this was to clear his mind, to erase the stars he had just begun to see. The touch of her hand was terrifying. Fanboy knew that it was supposed to feel comforting, but everything to him now just seemed dark and evil. It's made him feel like he wanted to crawl under a rock and hide from the cruelties of the world. It would be no use though. Somebody would just smash that rock.

The situation was just too much for Fanboy to handle. This sort of embrace from another human being other than Chum Chum was just too unfamiliar for him. Fanboy's breathing became a little heavier and began to feel light headed. His ears seemed to go deaf when he noticed that the room had begun to tilt.

Fanboy opened his eyes and was instantly met with a bright light. He tried to cover his eyes with his arms, but found that they couldn't move. He felt like his skin was going to melt away for it was scorching. His throat went dry as he breathed in the dust that was blowing in his face. Though the heat was unbearable, the cries of his classmates were just too horrible to describe.

At first Fanboy was disorientated and felt like he had just stepped into a scene. He then took in his surroundings and gasped. He was standing on the edge of a cliff, with all of his classmates; all of them crying. The only absent person was Chum Chum. Fanboy sniffed and kicked at the rocky ground. He looked over the edge of the cliff, expecting to see the ground, but looked only at swirls of dust and blackness.

"Guys, what's going on?" He gasped, bringing a hand to his mouth. He noticed the girls huddled together as the boys consoled each other. The class stood there together for what seemed to be hours and hours, waiting for a sign. What it was, no one knew. No one could tell.

Then, out of nowhere…A voice, "Hello…Fanboy…"

Fanboy gasped. "Who said that? W-who are you…?" He whispered. He glanced at is classmates, still huddled away from the cliff's edge, and found that nobody had spoken.

For a few moments, there was nothing but silence, but then the voice came again. It sounded whispery, with expression, without tone… "Who am I…?"

"Y-yeah…"

"I am YobnaF…"

Fanboy's head jerked up at the raspy, gloomy voice, that seemed to come from the air above, "Kill me… Kill me now…" His classmates took notice of the slightly high pitched voice, and paused their crying, looking around in terror. Fanboy did the same. His eyes went wider as the voice grew louder. In fact, it felt rather close… Too close.

He took a couple of steps away from the cliff's edge, for some reason expecting the voice to grow quieter. It did quite the opposite in fact; it only grew louder. "Kill me… Kill me… Kill me now… Kill me… Kill me… Kill me now…" That voice… It sounded so familiar. Why…?

The young super-fan faced his classmates, who were now looking at him in horror, "What's wro-? Kill…" Fanboy slapped a violet-gloved hand over his mouth, "Wait! No, it's not-! Kill me! Kill me! Kill me now!" Fanboy slid to the ground, tears of blood and acid falling from his eyes, burning through his skin, "Kill me… Kill me… Kill me… Kill me now… Kill me… Kill me… Kill me now…" He sobbed in great big noisy gasps. The voice… was his…

Kill me… Kill me… Kill me… Kill me… Kill me… Kill me… Kill me now…KILL ME… KILL ME! KILL ME! KILL ME NOW! KILL ME NOW! KILL ME NOW! KILL ME NOW! KILL ME NOW! KILL ME NOW! KILL ME NOW! DO IT! DO IT! DO IT! I WANT TO DIE!" Fanboy screamed in agony. He beat the dusty ground with his fists and continued to howl. He felt like dying, obviously. He wanted to. He had no will to live on earth any longer. He wanted to be dead. He wanted to be free from the tragedies of the world, and be safe with Chum Chum for eternity. Then he remembered the cliff.

Ignoring the cries of his friends, Fanboy walked straight to the cliff's edge and stepped off. He went free-fall, plummeting through bloody darkness. 'I don't care anymore.' He fell faster and faster through darkness until falling through what seemed to be a wall made from screaming skulls.

Fanboy woke up in a cold sweat. He sat up and screamed, terror surging through his veins, the memory of the dream still fresh in his mind. Instantly, felt arms push him back down where he lay. Fanboy was in the old nurse's cot. The same one he lay in when he broke both his arms and legs that one time.

Fanboy struggled against the force pinning him down, and began to kick his legs as fast as his body would let him. His common sense chipped away by the second, leaving him a wild animal. He kicked harder and harder at the person gripping his arms, so that he would have some chance to escape.

"WHOA! Honey, stop! You need to calm down!" Nurse Lady Pam's voice rang out as she struggled with the eleven-year old.

"N-No!" Fanboy cried and only kicked more forcefully, "Let me go! JUST LEMME GO!" He screamed, lashing out at the school nurse. One swift kick hit her stomach and caused her to gasp, her grip slightly loosening from his arms. Fanboy used this opportunity to struggle away from the twenty-year old and fall off the army cot.

Sobbing, Fanboy crawled on his hands and knees towards the wall farthest away from the nurse. He collapsed against the wall in a heap, breathing heavily, as madness took over his mind.

Fanboy's eyes darted around the small room, and he noticed something shiny. When Nurse Lady Pam advanced towards him, he leapt up and plucked it off of the glass counter top. It was a sharp scalpel. He then backed up against the wall once more, and pointed the weapon at her, causing her to freeze.

"JUST STAY AWAY FROM ME! JUST STAY AWAY!" He yelled, tears streaming down his face. His hand, with held the scalpel, trembled a bit, "PLEASE, JUST LEAVE ME ALONE! I DON'T WANT YOU NEAR ME!"

Nurse Lady Pam's eyes widened at the weapon being directed at her, and she took slow, careful steps towards the sanity-ridden boy, "Fanboy," She whispered gently, "You need to relax. Please, just calm down. Can you do that? That's all I want from you right now." She held up both of her hands as if indicating that she had no weapons. Fanboy didn't lower the scalpel an inch and stared at the nurse like a mouse stares at a rabid hungry cat.

"NO!" He cried out once more, "No, no, NO! You don't get it! I just need to get away! It's just too much! SO LEMME GO!"

The nurse took a hesitant step forward, and sunk down to her knees, down to Fanboy's level. He watched her cautiously, and backed up even further against the wall. "Sweetie," She soothed, "You shouldn't have to go through this; you don't deserve it." She scooted a couple of inches closer to him, and eyed the scalpel, "I know you. I know that you are a really sweet boy, and you wouldn't hurt anyone!"

Fanboy didn't answer. He bit his bottom lip and sobbed quietly. His hand, which held the scalpel, trembled.

Nurse Lady Pam smiled kindly at the broken boy, "Your life is very precious, Fanboy. I certainly think so. You shouldn't be focused on violence and hate; you're better than this! I don't want to see you like this, nor do your friends," She scooted even closer to the boy, until they were just inches apart.

"I-I don't have any friends. They want me to die…"

"Your life is very precious..." She whispered. She moved slowly and carefully, and crept a hand towards his; the one with the scalpel in it. She took hold of the weapon as gently as possible, and pulled it away from the boy. His hand stood still for a moment, then fell after she pulled away the weapon.

Trapped… He felt trapped. Fanboy tried to see if there was any way around the nurse, if he could somehow sneak past… And he gave up. He couldn't get away from her. What was the use? He could feel himself breaking down, the wall between them collapsing, and he wondered, "Why did I put that there in the first place?" Crying, he fell into the woman's open arms, and buried his face in her stomach. Nurse Pam held him tighter, wrapping her arms around his thin frame. One hand lightly stroked his golden brown hair, as a way to soothe the boy.

"I'm s-so sorry!" He bawled loudly, his tears staining the Nurse's uniform, "I'm so s-sorry!"

Ahem. If you found a clue in whether this story will have a happy ending or not in the last pages: Congratulations. I take my hat off to you. If you did not find the clue, then I'm sorry to say that tragedy haunted over you while you were reading. I apologize for the inconvenience. I suppose nobody is safe reading this alone. It is unsure how tragedy managed to affect you with its…wrath.

Nobody is entirely sure how tragedy works the way it does. Is it magical? Does it work around people? Does it simmer up at the last moment or does it stay through the accident beginning to end? Does it force people to do the wrong thing? As said before, NOBODY knows.

Some don't even believe that tragedy exists. Idiots. It DOES exist. This story isn't exactly the best proof, but tragedy was there. It was there beginning to middle, or somewhat middle.

If you are not to believe in tragedy, and that the most horrible things happen because of it… Good for you! It's great to not believe in the most horrible things! Now please, stop reading this story and do not make eye contact with me.

Mr. Mufflin grumbled, irritated, as he read his students' homework papers. Ugh. This was terrible! "But not to worry Hank," Mr. Mufflin said out loud to himself, and sank down in his leather armchair, "Only twelve more years with these monsters 'till retirement! Then, you can get away from this mess and explore the world of the future! Perhaps you can even live on the-!"

'BANG!'

Mr. Mufflin screeched, jumping up from his teacher chair, papers flying and scattering. He threw up his hands in disgust, "Ugh! Can't a guy get a little peace around-?" he paused abruptly when he saw the person standing at the opened door, "Oh. Heh. Nurse Lady Pam! What a pleasant surprise! Come on in!"

Nurse Lady Pam didn't smile, which was odd in Mr. Mufflin's opinion, for she was known for her optimism. He sat back down at his desk and awkwardly folded his hands. The woman walked in and over to Mr. Mufflin, and she clasped her hands behind her back.

"Mr. Mufflin," Nurse Lady Pam began, moving her brown hair out of her face, "I think that-!"

Mr. Mufflin waved a hand, interrupting her, "Oh no need for that; just call me Hunk…Err, um, Hank!"

Shrugging, Nurse Pam continued, "Oh, alright then. Well, listen, I need to talk to you about one of your students, Hank," She looked around the classroom glancing at the students' desks one by one, "It's really serious." She explained.

Mr. Mufflin eyed her suspiciously and tapped his fingers on the wooden desk, "One of my students?" he asked. Nurse Lady Pam nodded quickly. "Serious, you say?" She nodded once more. Mr. Mufflin sighed in disgust, "Well, which student, may I ask, are you talking about?"

Nurse Lady Pam took a quick breath before speaking, "Have you noticed anything unusual about your student, Fanboy?"

The middle-aged man jerked his head in slight disclosure, "The Purple Kid? In point of fact, sure, something odd seems to be going on with him. Yeah, let's see… He was falling asleep in class, barley paying attention, talking back to me," Mr. Mufflin stated, counting the events off his fingers. "… But it was nothing quite so serious."

The nurse placed her hands upon Mr. Mufflin's wooden desk and leaned in. "Are you sure? Nothing he said or done was somewhat hazardous?" She asked him, "Because it's really important."

Mr. Mufflin held up his hands, "Hold on just a little there. All I know is that he's distraught about the Talking Raccoon dying. They've been together since as long as I can remember. I suppose the Purple Kid is having a lot of trouble adjusting to the tragedy of it all. He's obviously very upset about that."

Nurse Lady Pam gasped, "His best friend passed away? When did that happen? How did it happen?"

"How should I know? I wasn't there, I didn't see it!" Mr. Mufflin exclaimed.

"That's it though!" Nurse Lady Pam said unhappily, snapping her fingers at the discovery, "The death of Fanboy's friend is probably interfering with his mental health!"

"The Purple Kid's mental…? What is this about anyways?" Mr. Mufflin asked skeptically, raising an eyebrow, "What did he do?"

Nurse Lady Pam adjusted her glasses and sighed sadly, "I... I think something is terribly wrong with him." Mr. Mufflin chuckled unevenly, "Since when has he had nothing wrong with him?"

Nurse Lady Pam sent Mr. Mufflin a quick glare, "Since when has this been funny? This is not humorous! The situation we are in is serious business, and if you dare to laugh at a student's flaws, then perhaps you aren't fit to even be a teacher!"

Mr. Mufflin stared at the woman's angry bolt from the blue. He hadn't expected her to be so stern towards him, particularly about the 'Purple Kid'. The older teacher drew in a sharp little breath and nodded slowly as the woman glared at him in anger. "I… I understand," He said.

Nurse Lady Pam put her hands on her hips in a no-nonsense manner, "Good, now may I continue?"

"Please do," Mr. Mufflin said, nodding in encouragement.

"Alright... Well, in all honesty, I'm not sure what the problem with Fanboy is. It may be depression, but he's getting really violent, so I believe-"

"Violent? The Purple Kid… What are you saying? What did he do?" Mr. Mufflin asked angrily. He stood up, pushing his chair back. "I'll have that brat thrown out of this school! Goofing off in class is bad enough, but demonstrating violence towards a school employee is where I draw the line!" He yelled, pounding his fist on the wooden desk.

Nurse Lady Pam backed away slowly, "N-No, that's not what I mean at all!" She cried, waving her arms. "He doesn't need to be expelled! I think Fanboy should g-go see a doctor! If he's showing violence, he must be having psychological o-or emotional problems! Besides, we should handle him with love and care, not hatred and distrust!"

Mr. Mufflin shook his head in confusion, "But aren't you a doctor? If the Purple Kid is so important to you, Pam, can't you help him?"

The woman groaned and gripped her hair in frustration. "No, I'm not that kind of doctor! I'm not a therapist! I'm a school nurse! That's why I can't give him any special kind of help or treatment!" She explained.

The man shook his head slowly and sat back down in his leather chair. "Well, that does sound like a decent plan, but no; we can't force him to go see a doctor. That decision lies with him."

"What are you talking about?" Nurse Lady Pam cried, "We have to do something! We have to discuss this with his parents; they have to be a part of this problem!"

Mr. Mufflin stared up at Nurse Lady Pam, who had just begun to cry as the gravity of the situation took her underway. Tears rolled down her face, and her body trembled. That's when tragedy decided to make its move on the teachers. The next sentence that was spoken from Mr. Mufflin caused Nurse Lady Pam to collapse.

"He doesn't have a mother or father."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6 (Rough Draft)**

After Fanboy's encounter with Nurse Lady Pam, she decided to let him out of school early. She only wanted him to have some more time alone, but he was determined that she wanted to keep him away from the other students, because of his violent tendencies.

What a horrible mess that was, and Fanboy was practically drowning in guilt because of it. What had caused him to perform such unspeakable actions? He didn't think of it any way except it being his own fault. He had been simply too horrible, and that is why (or so he thought) she sent him home early.

Fanboy sprinted down the school hallways, again ignoring his exhaustion and the confused stares he received whenever he passed a group of students. They were whispering about him by then, and he knew it. They didn't know that Fanboy was aware of their conversations, but he was. And he hated it. His face burned as people pointed at him and whispered his name. Fanboy wanted them to stop more than anything else. That's all he wanted from them. Wasn't it?

"Wait up!" A voice rang out, addressing him, and a hand yanked on his wrist. Fanboy's impulse was to get away so he continued to run, dragging whoever was holding him back. The hand was latched securely onto his wrist; Fanboy couldn't run away, so he turned around with a fist in the air, ready to whack this intruder. When he saw who the person was, his fist went limp at his side.

Francine, clothed in extravagant pink, stood there, with her hand latched onto his wrist with a look of contempt on her face. Words failed to meet Fanboy's lips and he stared at the girl in puzzlement. After a few moments of recollection he at last found his voice. "W-Would you let go?" he asked, indicating to his trapped wrist.

Francine considered this and she sighed, "Only if you stay here and listen to what I say. Got it, Freak…? …Eh…" 'I've got to do this for Yo and Lupe and most importantly, my reputation. But I can't make it look like I'd really apologize to this freak. No, I have to maintain my dignity.' Francine thought with contempt.

Fanboy glared at her. "Oh no way," He spat hastily, catching Francine off-guard. "You want me to stay here listening t-to all of your stupid insults and rants. Do you think I'll stay? Keep dreaming, Francine." He tried yanking his fist away, but Francine held tighter in a firm grip, almost cutting off the circulation in Fanboy's hand.

"Ack! Francine, let GO!"

The moment he said that, the class bell rang, and all the onlooking students who in the halls moments before, vanished to their classes. Fanboy continued to pull away from Francine, and now she hand two hands on his wrist in order to hold him back.

"Just let me go, Francine! I've got better things to do than stay here, being made fun of by YOU!" Fanboy snarled.

Francine glared back, and had to bite her tongue to keep a rude joke back. "I-I'm not trying to make fun of you, I'm trying to apologize, you idiot! You're my…um…well I'm not going to say friend…" She muttered under her breath.

Fanboy tapped his chin with his free hand. "Hm...In the past thirty-seconds, you have called be a weirdo, freak, and idiot. You don't sound like you're trying to apologize, and you do not sound like any friend or acquaintance I would ever want. Good DAY, Francine, I'm leaving!" He coldly replied in a mocking tone.

Fanboy yanked away from her one more time and finally unlatched his wrist from her hands. With that, he turned and attempted to run away. Francine's eyes widened, and without thinking, she grabbed his violet cape and jerked him backwards. Fanboy's eyes enlarged and he coughed at the sudden and extreme pressure on his neck; the force causing him to fall backwards.

Francine took this opportunity into account, and pounced atop of the boy, pinning his arms and legs down with her own, despite his protests. The girl flinched in disgust at the thought that she was actually touching this idiot.

"FRANCINE! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!" Fanboy shrieked in horror. He kicked his legs out at Francine, but she refused to budge.

"What's wrong with ME?" Francine gasped. "What's wrong with YOU? You're the one acting like some depressed psychopath! You hurt me today just as much as you hurt Yo!"

"Y-Yo…?" Fanboy whispered miserably, his voice lowering to a mumble. "W-what…I h-hurt her…?"

"You're DANG RIGHT, YOU HURT HER! WHAT has been going on with you?" Francine shrieked. She was becoming more and more worked up; Fanboy could tell. He was beginning to fear this girl, who trapped him under her own weight. "GAWD! I KNOW YOU'RE FRIEND DIED, AND I'M SORRY! OKAY?! I'M SORRY, I'M-I'M SORRY!" She couldn't believe he was overreacting over something as silly as that!

"It-it's…It's alright, Francine…" Fanboy whimpered, trying to calm the girl down. Trails of tears leaked from his emerald eyes and streamed down his face depressingly.

Francine began to feel her own face heat up, and she slowly let go of the boy, who didn't even bother to sit up, and remained to lie on the cool, tile floor.

The tears poured out of Francine's eyes before she could stop them. She hiccuped a few times before turning away from the boy to hide her tears, and she buried her face in her hands.

Fanboy stared at the girl's back silently. 'W-What?' Fanboy thought with shock. 'Why is she crying like that?' Fanboy was in total shock, and not just from this situation, but that this mean, rude, despicable girl was weeping before him, and that she was crying…because of him. "F-Francine?" He whispered softly. He sat up and reached for her shoulder as she wept. "P-please don't cry…"

Francine couldn't cry. It wasn't natural, for her at least. She was the strong-willed person. She was the one who was as solid as a rock; the one who was stubborn and unreasonable. As soon as the boy's hand touched Francine's shoulder, she yanked it away.

Fire burned in the girl's amber eyes, and she sneered in contempt at Fanboy, "W-Why should I not cry, Dweeb? You happen to do it all the time these days!" Francine snapped through her tears and clenched teeth.

Fanboy didn't hesitate to angrily reply, "I guess I cry because I actually have a REASON to cry, Francine!"

Francine laughed nastily. "Oh yeah, that's just like you: crying over that little monkey of yours."

Tears stung the boy's eyes once more. "He Is. Not. A. Monkey. Chum Chum's the best friend I've ever had!"

The insult flew out of Francine's mouth before she could stop it, "Ha! He's the only friend who ever will have had to have the guts to put up with your stupid little superhero games!"

"I wasn't PRETENDING!" Fanboy yelled. "IT WAS NEVER A GAME! I AM a super hero! Chum Chum was a sidekick, so that makes me a real superhero! Case closed!"

"Well, you couldn't save your own best friend, so what does that make you? You're not a superhero, nor a plain hero with no powers for that matter!"

"I-I… I tried to-" Fanboy stuttered.

"YOU DIDN'T!" Francine shouted.

"…"

"…"

"…Stop..." Fanboy tensed up as the tears spilled down his face yet again. Francine's words were slowly killing him.

"NO! Wake up already!" she yelled. "Stop being a little kid and stop pretending to be something that you'll never be! You tried to save your best friend, but you couldn't, so now all you do is mope around, hoping that if you act depressing enough somebody will actually feel sorry for you! NOBODY FEELS GENUINELY SORRY FOR YOU EXCEPT FOR YOURSELF!"

"T-That's not true…" Fanboy cried, "I don't intend to make people feel sorry for me! I don't WANT help! But somebody…SOMEBODY has to care-"

"Nobody liked you then," Francine interrupted, "before Chum Chum's "death", so do you think people will like you NOW?" She continued, "STOP PRETENDING! It was fun to pretend to be something heroic before, but this is real life! You aren't a superhero! You aren't wizard either! You're. NOT. FANBOY! He's not even real for gripes sake!"

Fanboy shook with overwhelming hurt…and confusion, as the cruel reality struck him in the heart.

"Not real? Then…" He whispered, "…Who am I?" He wasn't a superhero…He wasn't a wizard, like Kyle… He wasn't Fanboy…Who was he?

"Well, you better figure that out yourself, FANBOY! Oh, as if that's even your real name!" Francine snapped angrily. It's not. She took off down the hall, each step being an earth-pounding stomp. "Because of right now," Francine yelled to him, "you're barley a person! You have no friends, no family, and no identity!"

Fanboy flinched, and his heart clenched with each hurtful, yet truthful word she pounded into his mind.

Francine ran towards the cafeteria door and pulled it open. But just before she could go in, she added, "Go wallow in your SELF-PITY!" Then with that said and done, she slammed the door.

Tragedy had clearly done its job well along with Francine. Everyone noticed it. The whole class by that point, really. It was the way he walked, the way he spoke, his appearance as well. Pretty much everything about him just shrieked it. Depression, distrust, and loneliness overtook him like a shadow, destroying his loving personality. Forever gone was Fanboy, that cheerful, goofy, outgoing superhero wannabe, replaced by some… destructive yet hollow shell.

Not all of Fanboy's classmates knew why he was like this, but the ones that did, didn't know exactly what to do. Every time one would try to console Fanboy, he would lash out like a wounded animal. Every time one would ask him to get help, he denied that he was miserable and he didn't need any assistance or be concerned over. Nobody really knew what to do about him, so they decided amongst themselves to just keep their distances from him.

The super-fan finally made it to the double doors, and lazily pushed against them. He stumbled out, squinting in the bright light of the outside, as opposed to the dark setting inside. He noticed that nobody was playing on the outside playground equipment. It was silent; utterly muted. He sighed in liberation and wiped his eyes. The bell must have signaled the end of recess while Fanboy was in the nurse's office. That was good. He couldn't take any more of the pointed fingers, untrusting, fearful stares, and whispers.

"I'm not a real... He's not real? What does she mean?"

He clambered along the scorching blacktop, heated from the sun, and headed for the gate behind the swing set that would finally free him from school. Ugh, where could he go? Could he just go home? Could he go to Oz's comics? Oh, no way in heck! What about the Frosty Mart? The Frosty Mart… Yeah sure, why couldn't he? He and Chum Chum were already on their way there before.

Fanboy sniffed and opened the gate. As he walked out, it shut with a loud clang behind him. Finally, he was free from the whispers and glares.

The Frosty Mart was only a distance walk away. With a sleepy moan, he looked to his right, down the street, and there it was. The Frosty Mart was only about twenty-five yards away, but to Fanboy, it seemed like a thousand miles. Great, it would take him forever to get there. Nevertheless, he started to walk, determined to get there.

It was a tough hike for Fanboy. To people without a care, it would be considered a nice stroll to walk that distance, but for Fanboy, it was like sauntering though a hurricane. Due to his exhaustion, he would sway this way and that, he would stumble backwards, and he would trip several times. Ugh. Fanboy wiped his forehead as he tried to focus though a blurry vision.

Maybe… Maybe this wasn't such a great idea. He should just give up, go home, and maybe get some rest. Fanboy nodded slowly in consideration at the idea and then stopped abruptly. No. No, he wouldn't do that. Of course he wouldn't do such a thing. He and Chum Chum loved the Frosty Mart more than anything, and he wouldn't ditch the place now! He clenched his hands into fists and gritted his teeth. He could do this. He would finish his trip; their trip to the most amazing place in the world. He would do this, for Chum Chum.

In fortitude, Fanboy quickened his pace, despite his over tiredness. He shook his head clear every few seconds, and his feet pounded against the sidewalk pavement as his destination drew nearer. Fanboy felt slight triumph…and yet…he felt sadness, and sighed as he walked on. Memories flowed through his mind as his target drew nearer.

Fanboy and Chum Chum had so many adventures in this place since they were little toddlers. They had fun with Vikings, a dream vacation, and even time travel. Now that Fanboy was going unaccompanied, without his sidekick, the Frosty Mart just seemed lonely. Then again, Lenny would be there, and that definitely counted as company! Yeah, he had known Lenny for quite some time. Fanboy smiled at the notion, and then a new thought wiped it completely off his face. W-What if… What if Boog was there? Oh, no. That wouldn't turn out too well. He was the one who hit Chum Chum with his car.

"What if… what if… What if Boog doesn't bop me today?" Fanboy thought, "That would be awesome. H-He probably feels bad about it, so he won't try to bop me… Yeah. I'm sure he wouldn't.

He finally reached the Frosty Mart glass doors, and they slid open for him with a 'ding'! A gust of cool air hit Fanboy's face and he stared into the convenience store.

"W-Wait, what if doesn't care about killing Chum Chum at all? What if he still hates me? What if, he still wants to hurt me?!" Now, Fanboy was trembling, not from the cool air, but from the thought that Boog was going to hurt him when Fanboy was so vulnerable.

The assistant manager Lenny sat up at the checkout counter with the cash register. He looked up from his magazine and groaned as he saw the boy standing at the entryway. Fanboy smiled a half smile and waved.

Lenny adjusted his glasses, just to mess them up again as he hit his head against the counter top. "Oh no, not today…" Lenny tensed up, expecting to hear some goofy, annoying response from the super-fan, and got…nothing. Lenny raised his head from the countertop, quite confused by the silence coming from Fanboy.

Deterred by the man's unwelcoming; Fanboy rubbed his arm sheepishly and stumbled past Lenny towards the brightly colored Frosty Freezy Freeze machine. As he unsteadily walked past, Lenny couldn't help but wonder why Fanboy hadn't made any goofy, annoying remarks, why he wasn't wearing his trademark purple mask, and why he was alone.

Fanboy stared up at the pink and blue colored Frosty Freezy Freeze machine. "Freezy Freeze?" He asked quietly. In his ruptured mind, he heard a soft, far off echo of Chum Chum's voice giggling and saying back, "If you please!" Then, there was a horrible silence. Feeling tears well up in his eyes, he wiped them away quickly.

No. No, he couldn't cry now. Not in front of Lenny. That would be so humiliating. Yet he couldn't help but think that this was the first time he had gone into the Frosty Mart alone, without the company of his best friend. He was so used to getting one for Chum Chum and himself, so instinctively, Fanboy snatched two cups from the cup holder and filled them to the brim with the heavenly flavored beverage.

Geez, how long had it been since Fanboy has had one of these? Perhaps, it had been about a week. For a person who had been addicted to this drink since preschool, a week was just way too long to wait. Fanboy and Chum Chum were trying to get to the Frosty Mart that one, fateful day… Fanboy shuddered. The Frosty Freezy Freeze Chum Chum had the week before that… Was it his very last? …Apparently so.

Fanboy sighed unhappily and trudged to the checkout counter-top where Lenny stood waiting, and set the two filled cups on the on the granite surface. The younger boy looked down and rubbed his eyes as he handed Lenny a dollar bill and said, "T-Two Frosty Freezy freezes, please."

Lenny took no notice of the money in Fanboy's gloved hand and stared at his face. What…had…happened? Fanboy wasn't acting like himself at all! It was like looking at a completely different human being! This couldn't be Fanboy. It just couldn't be!

"Lenny? Hello? Lenny? Leh-Leh-Leh-Leeeeenny?" Fanboy called out, waiting a hand in front of the Frosty Mart employees' blank face. Lenny blinked once, twice, and shook his head clear.

"Oh, sorry, I was just, uh…" He looked wildly around the room to see if anything could inspire him enough to create a proper excuse for the staring. His eyes shifted downwards to the two Frosty Freezy Freeze cups and a light bulb flashed overhead as an idea appeared. After that, Lenny noticed that a certain sidekick was missing.

"Uh," Lenny cleared his throat and said, "Don't you only need one of those?" He used a hand to gesture towards the Frosty Freezy Freeze cups.

Fanboy looked mystified. He looked at Lenny and slowly turned his head to take a glance at the two beverages. After a few seconds of awkward silence, complete realization spread over Fanboy's face and he gripped his hair, letting out a, "GAAAAAH!"

Lenny jumped up at Fanboy's outburst, causing his glasses to fall off. In the process of that, he tripped over his own shoelaces and fell backwards, hitting the aluminum floor with a thud.

Lenny sat up quickly, and searched for his glasses while Fanboy made many numerous apologizes. As soon as Lenny found his glasses, he jumped back up, ready to yell at this kid and kick him out of the store.

"LENNY! I'M SO SORRY *hiccup* LENNY! ARE YOU OKAY!? I-I DIDN'T MEAN TO FREAK OUT LIKE T-THAT!" Fanboy rambled hysterically, "I-I *hiccup* I S-SWEAR I ONLY M-MEANT T-TO GET ONE! I WAS J-JUST-!"

Lenny covered his ears and stared at Fanboy, who was obviously in the middle of a break down. Was he…crying? It wasn't that big of a deal, compared to all the other crum Lenny had dealt with. He sighed. "Hey, relax! It's fine! It's fine! It's fine! Just PLEASE stop crying!"

Fanboy bobbed his head up and down and covered his mouth with his hands, but sobs just kept escaping his lips. Lenny stared at him for a moment. "Would it make you feel better if I took the other one?" He said slowly, not sure how Fanboy would react to that.

To his surprise, the super fan nodded quickly, tears streaming down his face, "Y-Yeah! T-That *hiccup* would be great!" Fanboy reached out a shaky hand to grab his own cup and push the other one towards Lenny.

The assistant manager adjusted his large, black glasses once more and put a dollar bill of his own into the cash register. He then rubbed his forehead in a tiredly manner, "Yeah, okay. Just PLEASE don't scream any more. It's giving me a headache."

"O-Oh, yeah, okay," Fanboy said rather shakily, "I can do that." He handed his own dollar bill to Lenny, who took it casually. "Thank you for t-taking the other one. That means a lot to-."

"You're welcome," Lenny interrupted gruffly. He took the dollar bill in his hand and placed it into the cash register. After he performed those actions, there were a few moments of silence before Lenny decided to speak up, "So no mask, huh?"

Fanboy shrugged his scrawny shoulders, "Nah."

Lenny expected more information to come from Fanboy, so he pressed on. "Well why not? I remember you were really attached to that thing! Quite literally! You never took it off, ever! I can't recall the last time I ever saw your face… Ever. Besides, I thought you wore it every day cause of the super hero wannabe thing! Isn't that like, your life-long dream? Isn't it to become a super hero?"

Fanboy looked down awkwardly and took a sip from his drink before speaking, "No, I-I can't really be a super hero now. I've never really been one. I don't have any powers… I'm not strong enough to fight villains…" He shook as he spoke, as if reality was swaying him. "Besides, I mean now that…now that Chum Chum's gone; I d-don't have a side kick anymore. I-I guess now I don't see the point."

"Gone? Chum Chum?" Lenny squint his eyes in confusion, "What do you mean? Where is he? Is he at school? Wait a minute; aren't you supposed to be at school?"

Fanboy's head jerked up and he stared at the older male in incredulity. He couldn't believe it, "Y-You're serious right?" He said, almost choking on his words.

Lenny shook his head clear, "Well, yeah... Of course you have to be at school! There's no holiday today, is there?"

"N-No. I meant about Chum Chum," Fanboy whispered.

"Oh. What? Did he visit family?" he asked casually. That had to be what happened right?

Fanboy leisurely shook his head and rubbed his blood-shot eyes tiredly. He found it funny that Lenny hadn't known what had happened to Chum Chum; especially if the crime scene was right across the street, and Fanboy almost laughed! How could Lenny have missed that? He worked at the Frosty Mart 24/7, no lie. Perhaps he was just bluffing, yeah, that had to be it! Nobody could just sleep through a crime scene with sirens in the air.

Fanboy's grip tightened on the Frosty Freezy Freeze cup and he laughed a horrible, uneasy laugh, "Ha ha, you're funny Lenny! I didn't know you had a humorous side! That's just hilarious! Ha! Not knowing where Chum Chum is; that's hilarious, Lenny! Tee-he! You crack me up!"

Lenny scratched his head in confusion and said, "Me? A humorous side…? What are you talking about? What happened to your friend?"

There was a horrible silence that followed as Fanboy stared up at Lenny

"…"

"…"

"…"

"I thought you would have known by now, Lenny," Fanboy said softly as he felt tears coming to his eyes once more.

Lenny sighed, "What are you saying?

Fanboy took a deep breath and swallowed the lump in his throat, "Chum Chum died a couple of days ago. H-He got hit by… Boog's car…"

"…"

"…"

"…Oh?"

'Ding-ding'

The sound of the Frosty Mart doors sliding open drew the attention of the two and they both glanced up. Fanboy's eyes widened in disbelief and at the irony of the situation at hand. It was Boog, standing in the entryway. Fanboy couldn't believe it.

"Yo Lenny!" Boog cupped his hands over his mouth like a megaphone, and then he noticed Fanboy standing there. "Could you clock in fo' m-?" He stopped and froze.

Lenny noticed the intense stares the two were giving each other, and put together that this wouldn't end up too well. Fanboy shook slightly as today's earlier thoughts filled his mind with trepidation.

"W-What if he tries to hurt me? Well…What if… what if… What if Boog doesn't bop me today?" Fanboy thought, "That would be awesome. H-He probably feels bad about it, so he won't try to bop me… Yeah. I'm sure he wouldn't. …Would he?"

But he could! As far as Fanboy could remember, Boog had bullied Chum Chum and him every time they made their rounds to the Frosty Mart. What had they done to him? NOTHING! So he would probably bop him! Fanboy began to shake as he remembered those times.

Boog opened his mouth to say something improvable, but all that came out was, "Haven't seen you in a while…!"

The young boy gulped. It took about three-seconds for him to figure out what to do next. "Um…I-I have to go!" He yelled, and sprinted for the doors. "Thanks for the Frosty Freezy Freezes, Lenny!"He cried. Boog quickly moved to the side to make room for Fanboy as he ran past, and watched as the boy hurried to his water tower home.

Lenny also watched the boy go, his mouth agape and his eyes wide. "Fanboy…" He then noticed that Fanboy had left his Frosty Freezy Freeze on the countertop when he had panicked and ran.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven (Rough Draft) **

Words alone were unable to describe how Fanboy felt about his little companion dying. It was a horrible, retched feeling, splitting his heart and psyche open, and filling the voids with depression and emptiness… Well, loneliness mostly. *sigh*… As stated in the last chapter, it was true; Fanboy indeed did not have any parents or guardians of any kind to look after him. Chum Chum was the only family Fanboy had ever known. So now that Chum Chum was gone, the super hero felt even more alone.

Fanboy burst into him home and slammed the yellow wooden door behind him as hard as he could, so that the deafening noise left an agonizing silence in the air. Breathing heavily, he backed up against the large, yellow door; as if he was afraid something was going to slam through it. Slowly, he slid downwards; his knees coming to his chest, and he stared at the ceiling in a trance like way…studying the cracks that had been eroded away by time itself.

Fanboy lay in silence, eyes wide and unblinking, and breaths coming from him in slow, deep exhales. His heart, which had been beating due to the sprint from the Frosty Mart, now slowed to a slow, continuous thump.

This was too much… Life was too much. It was above and beyond anything that the preteen could possibly handle. He couldn't face anyone, anywhere.

_"Ha! He__'s the only friend who ever will have had to have the guts to put up with your stupid little superhero games!__"_

Every strip of dignity that he had built up in his short life was now shredded away, distributed out among the people that hated him most… Every place in town that used to be a safe haven for the boy was now literally a trap. The Frosty Mart… He couldn't go there anymore.

"I-I can't…c-can't take this…anymore…" Fanboy whispered to himself as his heart pace quickened. "I-I can't take…a-anymore of this…" As he stared up at the wooden ceiling, a new feeling washed over him: the feeling of lost will and insanity. It struck him with no mercy, in the empty space in his heart where his family and best friend should have been.

"Why…?" Fanboy whispered. He clutched his golden-brown locks and heaved in big breathes of air. "Why did this happen? What did I do to deserve this? Am I really that horrible of a person to deserve this? Chum Chum… Why did you leave me?"

Silence… Just pure, horrible silence…

"I miss you," He whispered. The floorboards creaked in response to the male's voice.

Fanboy shakily stood up, stumbling from lack of sleep as he mounted the stairs that led to his makeshift bedroom. With an exhausted moan, he collapsed on his bed not even bothering to cover himself with the bed covers.

_"Oh, shut UP. You're annoying__…"_ A high-pitched voice that was weirdly similar to his own, groaned. Fanboy looked up in curiosity and gasped.

There was a _luminescent_ boy floating above him that was a splitting image of him, but in a much more sinister air. Bags hung under his dull-looking green eyes. His skin was a deathly pale, hair messy and distorted, small tuffs were missing, leaving bare bloody patches of skin. Teeth a grayish yellowish tint behind slightly chapped lips that churned into an evil sneer. Parts of his clothes were torn and bloody.

"…"

No answer.

"…"

The thing continued, _"Are ya done crying yet, stupid?__"_

"…"

"…"

"…Are you… Wha…? Me?" Was Fanboy's reply. He watched in fascination and slight fear.

_"Unfortunately, yeah, you!" _It snapped_. __"I can't believe that I'm a part of you. You, for cripes sake! I'm part of your mind."_

Fanboy's jaw dropped and the thing nodded. "Yep, this is one of those pathetic hallucinations that are harder to shatter than others." It gazed down at the small child, who sustained to weep in his bed and sneered.

Fanboy snapped, trying to sound defiant and unafraid, "Why do you care if you're me? Why, if you're in my mind I can get rid of you just like that!" He said, snapping his gloved fingers. He, of course, was confused by the other boy's words, and raised a timid finger. "Um… A hallucination, you say?" He asked nervously, "Wait… What _are_ you saying, exactly?"

"_All of us (your hallucinations) have recently taken a toll on your mind. It's not that we haven't been here before, but...Your imagination__'s gotten very violent, and now it's becoming a reality. I came to tell you about that_."

Fanboy slowly shook his head, not knowing a bit where this was headed and let out a short exhale and chuckled quietly, "W-Well, you seem a tad bit beat up, huh?" He motioned to the other's bruises and cuts.

The thing shuddered with a grin of pure ecstasy and motioned to Fanboy, saying with a rather pleasant manner, "Oh yes. Oh yes I am. I've been doing my little hobby for a while, and it's great fun. Although some of my victims may get rather feisty, I have a great time doing what I do," The thing said, and glared a menacing glare at Fanboy, who shrunk back in slight nervousness.

"A-And what would that be?" Fanboy asked nervously.

"Oh, the usual. But maybe I shouldn't tell you. You're a bit too naïve to even comprehend the things I like to do. The things I like to do are just indescribable."

Fanboy started towards the strange being, slowly. Then in a loud voice, he growled, "I am very, VERY frustrated right now! M-My friend died a couple of days ago and I just want to mourn okay?! Is that too much trouble? I-I don't have time for this s-stupid guessing game and I just want to be alone."

"O-O-Oh r-really?" The being stuttered, mocking Fanboy's speech. "Don't you want to hear about what I like to do? I understand that you're a curious little tramp. You might actually be interested." The thing's words were ignored and Fanboy went on with his rant.

"I don't _care_ about what you like to do!" He yelled, obviously getting riled up in his angry outburst, "W-Whatever you do like to do I'm sure I wouldn't be interested! Want to know why?! It's because you and I are nothing alike, we are not equals; we are opposites… and your appearance is enough proof of that." Fanboy thought that would be the end of it, but the thing just laughed, a cruel raspy laugh.

"Wow, you aren't too hard to break. No wonder we're similar," the thing cackled, swooping down to Fanboy, landing on his hands and knees. The male scooted back a little as it neared him until they were nearly face-to-face. "I think I should tell you about what I like to do. Or should I say, what _we_ like to do. See I've always had a passion for...violence."

Fanboy opened his mouth to speak but the thing cut him off. "Let me speak." Fanboy took a deep breath as the thing continued and looked at hero in the eye. "It starts now when we're young, with violent video games, cops and robbers, things like that. And then as we grow older like now it starts to consume you. You grew a passion for those things. He wanted to try them out in real life."

"What?" Fanboy yelled, backing away until he pressed himself against the headboard of the bed. He then recalled what happened at school earlier. He shoved Yo's hand off of him, he kicked Francine, and he attacked Nurse Lady Pam. Is this hallucination correct?

"Shut up and let me finish before you open that blabbering mouth of yours again!" The thing snapped, almost pleading. Fanboy shrunk back. He wasn't afraid of the thing, but he was rather wary. He just couldn't believe that he was hallucinating. And if he was hallucinating, why wasn't this thing leaving? Couldn't he force that image out of his mind? Sick image...

The thing shook its head slowly, angrily, "The point is you also have this passion for performing violent acts. And you will soon do the things that I have done."

"W-What? Who-what's you're name?" Fanboy whispered, overwhelmed by what was being said to him.

"My name? Classic, but given what's being said to you, that should be like question number five. If you must know my name is YobnaF."

"GGGAAAAAH!" Fanboy screamed and gasped in pain, sitting up quickly, bringing a gloved hand to his face. The thing disappeared from his mind. After feeling a stinging sensation as he performed the action, he quickly pulled his hand away from the wound and stared at the blood coating his fingers.

With a yelp, Fanboy sprung up from his bed, the covers falling to the floor as he performed the sudden actions. He ran to his makeshift bathroom. The thing followed close behind, and watched as the boy stared at his reflection in his mirror.

Fanboy gaped at the cut on his face, and lightly traced a gloved finger over it. "H-How… H-Huh?" Fanboy stuttered in disbelief and confusion. How could this have happened? This was lunacy! This was completely and utterly impossible. Nothing in his bed would harm him of course, a-and nothing was there to hurt him! Nobody was in the water tower with him, so… How could this have happened…?

Fanboy sighed unhappily and placed on hand on the wound, thoughts swirling around his mind like a blender, "Huhhhh… I'm really starting to lose it…" He murmured, burying his face in his arms, not caring if the blood stained them. Then, in a solid moment of fury, he yelled up to the heavens, "LEAVE ME ALONE! JUST LEAVE ME ALONE! I CAN'T TAKE LIVING LIKE THIS ANYMORE!"

Oz knew the boys well. His apartment and comic shop was located right underneath their water tower. The three had known each other since…like forever really. He hadn't really been a parental figure for them; he was more of a friend then a father. Yet they saw him as a somewhat role model, and spent as much time with him as possible.

The three had gone on crazy, yet awesome adventures together; countless adventures, really. The boys had helped Oz foil his cousin's evil plans on getting the greatest comic in the villain's clutches. They had helped him sell his first collectible, make his first dollar, and save the store, form turning into a frozen yogurt shop. The times they had together sounded stupid or somewhat pointless to a lot of people, but it was extraordinary for them.

Now that one of the boys had gone, Oz knew that nothing would be the same again. Something had shriveled up inside his heart, and he knew that there was the place where Chum Chum was located. Something had snapped; the special place in his heart where Chum Chum was located was now filled with depressed feelings.

Oz knew Fanboy was taking it worse, though. He knew that Fanboy was in a state of depression, and in grave danger of never being the same again, perhaps even in danger of…s-suicide. The thought of the boy committing suicide seemed impossible at first, but now, Oz wasn't sure if the possible was impossible.

Ms. Harmounian (Oz's mother) noticed something strange about her son. About Oz. Something was off about him. His emotions were shown through not him exactly, but through the environment around him. His shop… His shop seemed dull and listless, without color or meaning to it. The action figures, once well organized, once proudly perched atop their shelves, were now strewn about carelessly. The comics were sprawled upon the floor, some covered with dust.

Oz showed very little interest in his store anymore. He was more focused on Fanboy, to tell the truth. Oz was beyond worried about horrible outcomes, stressed to the point where he could barely contain his emotions. He did though. His feelings bottled up inside of him. The man tried to act like a mature adult, standing and walking with his head held high, and pretended nothing bothered him.

"OZWALD!" His mother cupped her hands around her mouth like a mega phone whilst she shouted. "OZZY! WHERE ON EARTH ARE YOU?" She groaned after to waiting for an answer, only to receive none. She took a seat on her conveyor belt and rode down the stairs, continuing to shout her son's name.

"Oz? Oz! OOOOOOOZ!"

"WHAT!?"

Oz's mother finally reached the bottom of the steps and sighed. His shop was cluttered; the normally clear window now had the shades drawn over it, creating an eerie, shady darkness. She moved her eyes to see her son sitting in his dome shaped chair, reading a finger-smudged comic book. As she made her way towards Oz, she noticed the many skinless chicken bones piled up on the floor.

Oz gave a little half-hearted smile and waved, "Hello Mother! How's the knee?" His voice shook.

"It's fine. Um, Honey, are you feeling alright?" She asked him, in a concerned motherly voice.

Oz sighed and opened his mouth to say something, but closed it as his bottom lip started to tremble.

Ms. Harmounian placed a hand on her son's back, trying to comfort him in any way possible. "Is it about the boy, Ozzy? I know that you're really distressed about that."

"No," Oz said in a flat voice, gently brushing his mother's hand away, "I'm all right. You don't have to baby me. I feel just fine," He lied.

"You're being defensive, sweetie. I know how you feel about this whole situation. I know that sweet boys just as well as you do. Poor, poor Lance…" Ms. Harmounian knew the boys had a big impact on Oz and an even bigger impact when he left. "Ozzy, that little boy Edmund is in heaven now, at peace. He's happy now, and we should be grateful for that."

"You don't understand," Oz murmured, folding his hands in his lap sullenly.

"Excuse me?" Oz's mother questioned, almost annoyed by her son's statement. "What am I to not understand? I loved those boys just as much as you did- err. I mean do."

Oz sighed and buried his face in his hands. "It's not fair," he whined, "it's just isn't fair at all. Chum Chum didn't deserve to die. He was one of the nicest kids I know."

"I understand that this is a difficult time for you, sweetie, but I must ask: Are you aware of how Lance is handling it?"

"Kyle!"

Kyle jerked his head up from his book, studying obviously, to see Yo sprinting towards him. Kyle brought a hand up to his lips and shushed her. "Yo, won't you be quiet? Last time I recalled this was a library; a place to read and study, not a playground to which you yell and scream like a hooligan."

Yo reached the Brit and slammed his Necronomicon shut, causing him to draw back in slight shock. "Yo!" he half-whispered half-yelled angrily. "What on earth is the matter with you-?"

"What's wrong with ME? Kyle, are you serious?" Yo gasped. She felt her face burn in embarrassment at Kyle's insensitivity and shook angrily. "Nothing is wrong with me! But, I'm in a really tough situation and I need your help with something! I really need your help!"

"With something…?" Kyle questioned, trailing off.

"Well…" Yo shifted on her feet and sighed. Placing her hands on the desk, she said, "Someone needs help, from me, and I have no idea how to help him. What do you think, Kyle? I need help with Fanboy!"

Kyle glanced down at the table, obviously bothered. "I…I don't want to talk about him at the moment, Yo. There really isn't anything that I would do, that could possibly help him in any way."

Yo gaped at her friend in disbelief. "W-Why not?" She whispered.

Kyle looked back up at her, and Yo was surprised to see tears glistening in his eyes. "B-Because," He mumbled. "If I converse with him, heal him, it'll just cause me to miss him that much more. And it wouldn't work for me at all. For almost every person who would be in Fanboy's state, it would take them years to move on from someone's death. In his position, it would take too long. There would be nothing I could do for him."

Yo stood silent for a moment. Was Kyle seriously suggesting what she thought he meant? "No…Kyle. I know a lot people think that Fanboy will commit suicide… But you're a wizard! A WIZARD! You can do anything! Can't you heal him with your magic?"

Kyle looked down at the table and shook his head, guilt filling his heart. "I-I can't."

"Why NOT?" Yo growled. "Ugh, Kyle, I know you don't like Fanboy, but just this once can't you help?"

Kyle looked at the girl in confusion. "What? It's not that I don't like him… Well, I don't, but that isn't the case. No, I mean that…" He paused to clear his throat. "Yo…" he continued softly, "I…I've been re-admitted to Milkweed Academy. I'm leaving next week. "

Yo gasped, and she felt like she had just been kicked in the stomach as her mind tried to register what Kyle had just spoken, "W-What?" She choked out.

"Yes," Kyle continued, averting his eyes from her, "I understand that it's hard to believe, but I have turned in my test results… A-and Professor Flan is at last letting me re-matriculate at my rightful place at Milkweed. The council of the top wizards agreed as well, and as for Sigmund…" Kyle grimaced slightly at the very mention of the sorcerer. "Well… never mind Sigmund. I can handle him anytime. A-Anyways, there has been a new rule that has been enforced in the school, and… Look, wizards that enroll in that academy aren't allowed to work their magic upon humans until the wizards graduate."

Yo was at lost for words for a few moments as the boy's information sunk in. No. No it couldn't be… "B-But…" She stuttered. "Couldn't you make an exception Kyle, just this once? Can't you just talk to him?"

Kyle shook his head grimly. "N-No, Yo, I couldn't possibly…" he trailed off once more and sighed. "Listen, Fanboy—he's been blessed with a cheerful personality, so perhaps he can heal on his own. See here, just try to understand-"

"Oh, I understand alright."

Kyle looked up, the confusion evident on his face. "You do? Is that so?"

Yo nodded, her hands balled up into fists, steam coming out of her ears, her teeth grinding against each other. "I understand what a complete JERK you are, you PATHETIC excuse for a FRIEND!" And with that, she ran out the door, sobbing.

Kyle abruptly stood up from his chair, shoving it backwards, and he shouted, "YO! I WOULD HAVE HELPED IF I HAD THE CHOICE!" Yo ignored him and slammed the door behind her. Kyle watched her leave, and then stared down at his Necronomicon in sadness.

"You should help him," it said, giving a knowing glance to Kyle. He shook his head in response and hid his face. "N-No. I won't. I'm not going to ruin my life-long goal for the person who's been preventing my finish!" He felt horrible saying that, and it made him sound like a heartless jerk, but that was how he felt.

"I suppose he would help you in a state like the one he is in," the Necronomicon pointed out. Kyle shook his head and picked up his fallen chair. "I know, but I'm not like him. I'm not talking to him." A lump rose in the Brit's throat, "N-Never, ever again. Don't you know what they do to wizards of they break that rule?"


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8 (Rough Draft)**

8:00 PM

"Fanboy?" Yo called out softly. She pressed her hand gently against the large wooden door and hesitantly pushed it open. "Fanboy?" Her eyes trailed from the wooden stairs that led to the balcony serving as a bedroom, to the couch, where the boy lay sleeping.

She let out a small exhale and tiptoed over to him. He was curled up into a ball, facing the TV. His hair spread messily, somewhat over his eyes. His face was slightly red and tear-painted. Yo breathed as quietly as she could. She felt pang of sorrow surge up in her chest, and she sniffed.

Yo needed to talk to him. About Kyle's departure, Chum Chum, his relationship status with his friends at school, everyone. She quietly sat down on the other end of the couch and watched him breathe peacefully. She then saw with some curious fascination that his body had begun to twitch, as if responding to something in a dream. "I really should wake him up," she thought to herself, folding her hands on her lap and kicking her legs.

As Fanboy's body began to shake, Yo began to grow more and more concerned—maybe even frightened. Sweat dripped off of his face, which had the expression of terror, and his body became more rigid and tense. Yo's heart began to pound with worry as little grunts and whimpers emerged from Fanboy's lips. He was squirming now.

He was having one of those awful nightmares! Fanboy was beginning to cry in his sleep now, his hands randomly pawing the air in defense. "F-Fanboy?" Yo whispered. "Fanboy? Fanboy, wake up!"

She placed a hand gently on his shoulder. This had no effect on him, as his fists curled up and he began to strike the air. "Fanboy!" Yo seized one of his flailing wrists and held it tightly. Fanboy's eyes popped open and barely awake, he swinging fist collided with Yo's mouth.

Both children let out screeches and Yo backed away covering her mouth with one of her hands—blinking back tears. Blood dripped out of the corner of her mouth and Fanboy saw it. He dropped his fists and his jaw went slack, face growing pale as he eyed the wound.

"Uh-Uh..." He stuttered. He got up from the couch and slowly backed away from the other child, as if he were afraid that she would strike back.

"W-What?!" Yo's tongue flicked out to lap up a drop of blood. "Oh Fanboy, it was an accident! I-I woke you up! You were asleep; you didn't know what you were doing!"

He didn't seem to hear her. "Geeze…" He slowly turned around and walked slowly up the wooden stairs, collapsing on his bed. Yo followed.

The boy mashed his face against the bed sheets, which were damp from the tears he had shed. Oh he had done it now.

_"She hates you_." The voice would not leave him alone. Maybe if he accepted it, it would leave.

"I know," Fanboy whispered. "She's always hated me."

"I don't hate you. Don't believe it for a second!" Yo insisted said, pointing a finger.

Fanboy sat up quickly and tried to wipe away his tears and mucus. Yo stood there, her arms at her sides, trembling. He sighed and looked at his converse high-tops. "What are you still doing here? I thought you would have left by now."

Yo took a deep breath. "I-I…" Her mind went blank. Her face heated up and tears began to leak out her eyes. "Need to talk to you a-about Chum Chum, 'bout his death, 'bout K-Kyle leaving, a-about you," –She stopped abruptly and bit her lip in frustration.

Why was she crying? She couldn't cry! "I need to tell you this now, or I'll never be able to work up the courage to tell you again. Fanboy, of course I like you. I always did. Just as much as I loved Chum Chum. I know it's so hard to believe, considering that I always em...fondled over him, I always wanted him—but I digress. Fanboy, I want to tell you that I would never leave you; I will NEVER hate you for the state that you're in. I know we barely have anything in common but I know that we both had strong affection for Chum Chum. That day, at the accident… you saw me. I couldn't control myself. —When you-!"

Her eyes flickered for a moment.

"It is not your fault, Fanboy! Nothing is, really. Bad things happen to everyone. Some live with it. Some are _born_ with it-"

She stopped talking, for Fanboy had sprung forward and wrapped his arms around her. For a moment, she couldn't breathe, and her mind couldn't comprehend what was happening. Heated, warm desire flooded through the two.

For a few seconds, Yo couldn't move. Was he really that needy for human embrace? She felt Fanboy's face nuzzle against her neck and her face heated up quickly at the feeling and she gently hugged him back, wrapping her arms around his fragile neck.

Minutes passed, and the two didn't move. Fanboy finally became tired of standing, and little by little, he lowered the both of them to sit on the edge of his bed. Yo felt the tiniest flicker of discomfort fame up inside of her, but she quickly dismissed it. Fanboy felt so warm, warmer than he had ever been in a long time. He loved this feeling. It wasn't exactly the same as it was before, but it was there.

"Yo?" Fanboy whispered.

"Yes?"

"I-I'm so sorry I hurt you."

"That's alright. It...It wasn't _your_ fault."

Time passed...

Yo looked at her watch. 9:45. Time DOES fly. "Fanboy, I gotta go," she whispered. "It's getting late."

Fanboy's eyes shot open and he tensed with fear. "Could you stay here?" He whispered. "Just for the night? I'll get so scared…because of t-those NIGHTMARES!" He cried. He shoved his face in his gloved palms, as the images became a remembrance. "Every night, it's the same," He whimpered, "Chum Chum dies in some gruesome way…"

Fanboy gripped both of her shoulders with his gloved hands, causing her to stop speaking. "Please…" He whispered. Yo shook her head, a bit surprised by his intensity, "I can't sleep here!"

"Why not?"

"Because you're a boy!"

Fanboy's face flared red. "Okay... Y-You could sleep in Chum Chum's bed. You wouldn't sleep with me, but you'd still be close, right? Yo, I'm just terrified of those nightmares. I-I can't survive those images. Pleeeeeaaaase?" Fanboy begged, clasping his hands between his legs.

Yo sighed in defeat. "Okay, fine."

"...Really?"

"Uh-huh."

"Oh, that's great!" He perked. "Y-You can sleep in Chum Chum's bed-"

"That's all right," Yo interrupted. She felt the strange feelings pass through her body once more as she felt Fanboy's arms wrap around her.

"Thank you," he whispered in her ear. She lifted Fanboy's indigo bed sheets and crawled underneath them, and then she hesitantly motioned for Fanboy to join her. He grinned thankfully at her, and he too crawled under the covers, accidentally knocking into her body a few times, causing the both of them to blush. Yo stared upward as Fanboy (who was closest to the bedside table) shut off the lights. He sighed in tiredness.

"'Night, Yo."

"G' Night, Fanboy."

Fanboy fell asleep almost immediately, leaving Yo to stare into the darkness.

"Oh… I hate all of this. Chum Chum? Why did you have to leave? Tears sprung to her eyes and she began to silently cry. "Oh Chum Chum! I miss you so much! Every time I think about you, my head starts to hurt. I've been getting headaches for so long it's not even funny." Yo bit her lip as a way to muffle her sobs. "I-I can't take this anymore! And it's worse for Fanboy! He doesn't even know how to talk to anyone. He doesn't have a mommy or a daddy that can help him. He… He's just so lost…"

Yo closed her eyes. Finally, a soothing wave of exhaustion washed over her. She yawned once, twice, and positioned her body so that she was facing Fanboy, and he was facing her. Yo pressed her forehead against his, as if she were trying to send him a message to his mind. "Find your life, Fanboy," She whispered. He yawned in response and his body stretched a little, one of his hands finding her cheek. Yo closed her eyes slowly as her drowsiness got the better of her. "Sweet dreams…"

…

Shortly after Yo fell asleep, Fanboy's nightmares had begun to haunt him again.

_"Chum Chum? Chum Chum! Where are you, little buddy?__"_

_"Over here, Fanboy!__"_

_"Chum Chum," he cried out, "I can__'t see you! I can__'t see anything! There__'s only a white light!__"_

_"Come and find me Fanboy!__"_

_…_

_"Chum Chum__…"_

_"__Come find me!__"_

_"Chum Chum__… My world is turning grey__…"_

_A flicker of pain__…_

_"Fanboy-__"_

_A scratch__…_

_"__Come find-__"_

_Blood__…_

_"CHUM CHUM! HELP!__"_

_"-ME!__"_

_Blood__…_

_Black__…_

_Red__…_

_Blood__…_

_Blackness__…_

_"Chum Chum__… help *cough* __…me__…"_

_Dead._

_"Really? You think that__'s how it is. You think you__'re so special__—NOBODY EVEN LIKES YOU! You__'re not special; you__'re trash on the side of the road! You and your friend just so happened to be at the same exact place I happened to travel to on my daily routine to Earth.__"_

_…And that girl; the little Asian one? Do you honestly think she likes you?__ You__'re a little imbecile. She doesn__'t like you at all. She just feels sorry for poor little Lance whose only family died.__"_

_"T-That__'s not__…"_

_"You__'re so stubborn. But you don__'t have to admit it. You just have to accept the fact in your little heart that not a thing in the world cares about you. Do you hear? Nobody loves you. You are alone in the world.__"_

_"I-I__…"_

_"Get it through your thick skull. NOBODY, and I MEAN NOBODY loves you!__ Don__'t you realize? You__'re the only thing that is closest to Chum Chum. She wants to see if there__'s a bit of him in you. She loved him, not you. So__…what are you going to do about it?__"_

…

"FANBOY, WAKE UP!" A scream rippled through the air and Fanboy woke up in a cold sweat. "Oh, thank goodness."

Fanboy breathed heavily, tears staining his cheeks. He opened his eyes quickly to see Yo sitting across from him, a look of terror on her face. She had been sleeping soundly when Fanboy's yelps had awakened her. She saw him pawing the air, a look of terror on his face. His body shook in little spasms, and that was when she had screamed for him to wake up.

He shoved his face in his palms, and Yo watched in confusion and slight discomfort.

…Silence. Yo fiddled with the hem of her skirt and exhaled deeply, "A-Are you all right?"

"…"

Yo gazed at him and touched his shoulder, saying, "Fanboy? Are you okay?"

The boy in question's shoulders began to shake, but not from sadness or excitement. Yo quickly removed her hand.

"Get out."

"What?" It was like a kick to the stomach. There was no emotion in his voice. No sadness, no anger, no happiness.

"Get out."

"Why?"

Fanboy shook his head and tears trailed down his face for the umpteenth time. "I hate when you do this to me, Yo."

"Fanboy, I'm not-"

"GET OUT!"

Yo's heart nearly stopped. Fanboy had gotten to his feet at lightning speed and was now towering over the now trembling girl. "YOU HAVE TO GET OUT! YOU CAN'T BE HERE!" Yo's jaw dropped and she now sat frozen in terror and the intimidating male.

"YOU THINK I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE DOING?" He yelled, jabbing a finger at her face. "I KNOW WHAT YOU'RE DOING YOU LIAR! YOU DON'T LIKE ME, YO! I KNOW YOU DON'T! Y-YOU JUST FEEL SORRY F-FOR _**ME**_…!"He practically spat out the word "sorry". He panted heavily, his fists clenched, and his eye began to twitch. Yo slowly began to back away from him.

"Fanboy… Please," she whispered. "You're scaring me…" She crawled off the bed and onto the wooden floor as the boy advanced towards her. "I don't feel that way about you-"

"OH I'M SO SURE!" Fanboy screamed angrily, throwing his arms in the air. Yo jumped at the volume of voice he was using. She too began to cry softly, tears cascading from her eyes. "DON'T GIVE ME THAT!" he yelled, jabbing a finger at her face, "I-I KNOW HOW YOU FEEL AND IF THAT'S HOW IT'S GOING TO BE, THEN YOU CAN LEAVE MY HOUSE RIGHT NOW!"

Yo began walking backward, clearly terrified of Fanboy who'd gone completely mental.

"Fanboy," She whispered. She watched in terror as his gloved hands curled up into fists, his teeth grinding together as his left eye twitched. He was breathing heavily and little growls were emerging from his throat.

"You never, EVER, EVER liked me. You only liked CHUM CHUM!" he screamed. "How could you do this to me?" His voice had lowered, but the anger had not. "How could you lie?"—He stopped and shook his head—"Oh gah…" He gripped his hair in an angry, panicked frenzy. His vision was going blurry. The room looked as if he were staring into a small wide-angle camera lens.

Yo backed away a couple of steps and tried shaking her head clear and focus on the situation at hand. "You're crazy…" She whispered, hoping he didn't hear that. He did. His eyes doubled, and everything mean ever said to him in his young life came cashing back at him.

_"Kill her." _

Fanboy shuddered at the thought that pushed the negative feelings into his heart.

_"Kill her." _

He clenched his fists, shaking. He couldn't take it. He had been mocked his entire life, and the only person who had stood by him was Chum Chum, who was now dead. Now this girl had lied, stolen his first kiss—said she had loved him, and what a lie that had been! The insults swirled around in his mind. He couldn't take it anymore. He was going to snap. The verbal abuse brought on by others was weighing him down. The fury was rising up inside of him.

_"Kill her. Show her exactly how angry you are." _

His lasts threads of sanity were finally snapped. The rage he had bottled up inside for so long was finally unleashed. With a blood-curling scream, he lashed out at her, his hands outstretched, and they managed to wrap around her throat. Just as she had done to him at the accident, he now did to her, except this time there was nothing to stop him, nothing.

_"Kill her…"_

His hands squeezed her neck tightly as hard as he could, and she already began to cough and retch. He shoved her to the ground, trying to pin her down with his was difficult, because she kept thrashing about. Little grunts and gurgles came from the two, but that was about it.

Yo clawed at Fanboy's face, her fingernails leaving bloody scratches, her fists ramming into his face over and over. He did not let go. He was too wrapped up in his own fury to regain sanity. Repeatedly, Yo slammed her fists into his jaw, over and over until blood dripped down his chin and several teeth came loose. He did not even seem to feel it because his grip did not loosen at all.

Slowly, Yo's punches became slower and less forceful. Her face was losing its color due to the lack of air, her lips turning a shade of blue. Soon her punches became little pats as she used her last bit of energy to paw at his face. Her fist finally fell at her side and she stared up at the monster that was once her friend. His blood dripped onto her face, mixing in with her tears. He looked back intently with a murderous expression and breathed heavily, almost hyperventilating.

Why? What did she do wrong? ...At least to deserve this? What was he thinking? What was going on through his mind? Why was he doing this? Did he think that killing her would accomplish something?

He's crazy. "I can't let him do this. I have to—I need to fight back! I don't want to die. I can't back down to him."

The thought of dying petrified Yo beyond belief and that fear somehow gave her a new strength. With an abrupt burst of energy, Yo slugged him in the face with all her might. Fanboy let out a ragged scream as blood burst from his mouth and nose. He finally let go of Yo's throat to clutch at his bloodied face and she backed as far away as she could from him, taking in big gulps of air. She wanted to rest for a few seconds to catch her breath, but Fanboy wouldn't even let her do that. He was not going to let her win.

His fist caught the side of her face and Yo fell backwards, off of the balcony that served as a bedroom, landing on the wooden floor below. She gasped as the wind was knocked out of her, pain shooting up her spine. She lay there for a few moments, trying to will the pixies out of her eyes.

Through her blurry vision, she managed to see Fanboy hobbling towards her, a psychotic smile tugging at his lips, his pupils like needle points. He pounced on her for second time and she gave him all that she had. The water tower walls echoed the children's' grunts and screams of pain. If Yo punched his jaw, he would punch back with just a strong of force. Both began to pant from exhaustion and Fanboy was beginning to tire from trying to punch and pin her down at the same time. The moment he paused to catch his breath; Yo took her chance and shoved him with the force that landed him on his back.

She let out a battle cry, pounced on him, and pounded every inch of his body. Blood splattered everywhere and Fanboy screamed bloody murder. He managed to grab her wrists and hold them away from his face. For a few moments, there was a somewhat continuous struggle between the two. His gloved fingers clenched hers and he began to crush the bones in her hands. Yo gasped and struggled and tried kicking his stomach. She accidentally aimed a little too low and he curled up into a ball, moaning from the unbearable hurting.

Yo crawled to the kitchen portion of the water tower as fast as her bruised body would let her—who wasn't too fast, and there was blood pouring from her mouth. Looking over her shoulder, she saw that Fanboy wasn't even bothering to run, like he knew that there was no way out for her. She slammed the door and looked around the kitchen wildly for a weapon she could use. "He has to have some knives in this lot, right?" Yo thought frantically as she dug through the kitchen drawers. "Even a fork would be fine! Just—oh please let me out of here alive Fanboy!" She searched drawer after drawer and still no luck of finding a knife.

Yo was beginning to panic. Finally, the last one-ah THERE! Yo scooped up the carving knife and hid it behind her back. The door slammed open and Fanboy hobbled in with that psychotic beam on his face, in a a complete frenzy. She thought it was truly baffling that his appearance had changed so much. Blood covered most of his face, and well as some of his clothes. His form was almost skeletal and completely undernourished. His body would twitch every so often in little spasms, and his eyes were glaring daggers at Yo. The girl tried to remember what he looked like before this mess, and at the moment of madness, she couldn't remember.

Yo knew that Fanboy didn't have much of a chance to win this fight. He was broken, vulnerable, and shaking so much that Yo knew that she could just push him and he'd fall flat on his bloody face. No. No, she was going to something else. She made sure the knife was out of sight as he advanced towards her. When he finally reached her, she allowed him to weakly pin her to the ground. She stared up at him and he stared back, his blood dripping from his chin and onto her, drenching her complexion. Yo sighed, gazing piteously up at his broken face. She knew this wasn't his fault; he had just gone psychologically insane.

Grinning, Fanboy leaned down closer until his face was a mere inch away from Yo's. "…Any last words?" He gurgled, blood dripping out of his mouth.

Yo's eyes leaked her tears and she sniffed. It was justly inexplicable of who this person used to be. With his face drenched in blood along with the rest of his body, you could barely tell who it used to be. The only way Yo could tell a resemblance to his old self were the bright, vibrant, emerald irises that gazed back at her own. Yo lifted her head until their faces were touching gently. If he was going down in this pain, the least she could do was deliver a line of dignity.

"I think you have really pretty eyes," She cooed. Raising the knife, she slammed it into his back, sinking it in the hilt of the weapon. Fanboy arched his back and let out a terrifying screech of pain. Yo yanked it out of him, causing his back to arch, only to have her jam it inside of him a second time. She quickly maneuvered herself out from under him as quickly as she could and stepped back to watch the horrific sight.

He gasped and gurgled, blood traveling up his throat. He retched and coughed, practically soaking himself in his own life essence. He automatically began pawing the air as his body began to spasm and he let out a few more screams of pain. Yo walked over to him, knowing that he was a danger no more, yet she still tread cautiously. He made more attempts to claw at her as she placed a hand on the grip of the knife, and yanked it out. Blood literally spurted from the wound, and Fanboy pressed his hands over it while he howled. It felt like the blood would never stop pouring, but it clotted and ceased after a while. Fanboy glared daggers at the girl, gnashing his teeth, and he fell forward on the floor, one hand outstretched, still coughing. It seemed like he was making a last attempt to get at her.

Yo sobbed, pulling her knees up to her face. Her shoulders shook along with the rest of her body. Her heart pounded. He was going to die. She had killed him! That's what she had done. She was a murderer! "Yo…" The whisper was so inaudible, that she wasn't quite sure if she had imagined it. Oh thank the Lord he was alive! She looked at Fanboy through tear filled eyes and uttered, "What?"

"D-Don't…*cough* don't t-tell…" he cut off into another fit of coughing. With every heave, more blood pushed out of his body, and Yo knew he was losing a lot more than a person could handle.

She closed her eyes and shook her head. "I won't," she lied. She would have to tell someone. He was crazy and couldn't stay here. He couldn't live alone with nobody to take care of him. Not when he was this dangerous. He needed help, real assistance from a professional. Not just random lecturing on the side from a former friend. He could not live on like this; it was not an option.

"Fanboy, you're going to a place where you can get help. You'll be okay someday. You can come back, a-and we can play with everyone, and have fun just like we used to. You'll make lot of friends. You'll have a family that loves you, and it'll all be okay!" Yo sobbed.

"Chum Chum…? *Cough*" He looked hopefully at her. Had he forgotten? Wait, he wasn't looking at her. His eyes seemed to strain to see behind her, and she turned. Nothing was there. Was he hallucinating again? "Chum Chum..."

Yo closed her eyes once more. "C-Chum Chum's in heaven, Fanboy. Someday, we'll all go there to see him."

"Go…now. I w-want to see Chu-" his voice trailed off. Yo glanced at him. He had passed out. "You will someday, Fanboy," Yo whispered, "but not today. You have to live! If you die, oh, I don't know if I would ever forgive myself. You're going to live. …You're going to be okay." Another shocking thought crossed her mind. "Oh I can't believe it. Francine…she was right about you."


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9 (Rough Draft)**

Fanboy woke up to see a bright light shining in his face, practically blinding him. A bit intimidated by the shine, he closed his eyes again, but even then, the light shone through his eyelids. He let out a whimper and shifted his head a few times. The smell of hospital hit him full force and he coughed. It smelt of medication and metal….and blood. Lot's and lot's of it. He couldn't detect the source, but it must have been extremely close by, since he could feel the warmth of it on his body.

A deep voice above him to his right muttered, "Oh, he's awake."

Fanboy whimpered and tried to move his arms and legs, and a wave of pain washed over his body causing him to stop.

He shivered. He felt cold, colder than he had been in a long time. It traveled through his body and heart, only cold. He felt hands poke and prod at his body and he realized that he was naked.

Where was he? He tried to detect any sound and he received the sound of feet shuffling, muttering voices, and the beeping of a heart monitor.

"Give him another dose," a more feminine voice whispered. At least he thought she whispered. His senses were clunky and disabled a bit. Fanboy made a small noise and tried to shift his body away when he felt a cold cloth dab his wrist, and then a sharp needle pierce his skin, but strong, surgical-gloved hands prevented him. A wave of drowsiness immediately washed over him and he drifted back into unconsciousness.

…

_"Voice? Are you still here?" _

_"…Heh, heh…" _

_"GET OUT HERE AND SHOW ME WHAT YOU'RE MADE OF! YOU THINK IT'S SO HILARIOUS THAT I ALMOST KILLED MY FRIEND? HA! I'LL SHOW YOU WHAT'S FUNNY! SO GET OUT HERE IF YOU THINK YOU'RE SO TOUGH!" _

_"Hmm… All right. If you want me to hurt you in your sleep, I could. But watching you suffer is a lot more entertaining. So how about I show you Chum Chum, or your friend, Yo?" _

_"…No." _

_"I thought so. So, let us begin, shall we?" _

_"NO!"_

…

The voice in his head didn't listen to Fanboy's begs and pleads, and instead showed him a replay of Chum Chum's death, over and repeatedly. YobnaF also showed little clips of Fanboy's outbursts towards Yo.

Fanboy struggled to wake up, but amongst the drugs and their effects, he was powerless. Tears cascaded down his cheeks, and over and over Fanboy whispered for YobnaF to show mercy. Guilt overwhelmed him for what he had done to his friends.

Fanboy opened his eyes a few hours later feeling lightheaded and sick. He tasted blood. His vision was indistinct and unnecessarily bright, thus he closed his eyes again. He struggled to move his now ungloved hands, and they traced a thin bed sheet that lay upon his body. It felt cool against his damaged, pale skin.

When he realized that he was still naked, he sighed heavily and tried to stretch. Arching his back shot waves and waves of unbearable pain throughout his body, and he whimpered. A trickle of sweat ran down his forehead as anxiety coursed through his mind. The new room smelled like medication, but a lot less than it had a few hours ago. The beep of the heart monitor sounded a bit soothing, but it just symbolized death in its own way. It was a small room, nothing special about it. There was a small bedside table, with a small glass of water perched on top.

Fanboy grabbed the cup and gulped it all down, the water streaming down his chin in the process. He sighed with relief as his thirst was quenched. There was one window, but it had bars and the patches of light made lined patterns on the wall. It was just another reminder to him that he was trapped.

Fanboy's hand made its way under the blankets and traced the bandages wrapped around his torso. He had attacked Yo. That was a human life, and he…He had actually ATTACKED another human being. That was inexcusable.

Why hadn't she killed him? Wait. She almost had, and the doctors had healed him, but still. Why had he tried to attack? What HAPPENED? What was wrong with him? He didn't remember much. He remembered flipping out and that was about it.

"No…" A mental thought told him. "You do remember. You're just in complete and utter denial you FREAK!" Fanboy covered his face with his now ungloved hands and trembled.

"I wonder what they did with my costume." He thought to himself. "They probably threw it away. It was covered with blood anyway. However, that was my one and only uniform…" "Distract yourself all you want," the mental thought piped in again. "You're a murderer. You deserve to die." "I DON'T!" Fanboy said aloud. Yet, his statement was extremely unconvincing. He knew it was true. He was mentally convinced that he deserved—No, NEEDED to die.

_"Just kill me!_" Fanboy wanted to scream. _"Don't you see that things are always bad with me around? Just KILL me! Don't fix me! Let me die! The world would be so much better off without me! So LET ME DIE!_"

Fanboy's trembling hand gripped the bandage that was wrapped around his back and torso. His fingers began to yank away the cloth. His fingers came into contact with the black, ugly stitches, and started tugging and pulling at them. The moment he did that, blood began leaking from his wound again.

"If this is the only way to die, I'll take it. Chum Chum… I'll be with you soon, little buddy." He shut his eyes tighter and pinched the wound so that more blood began to flow at a continuous pace. The pain was unbearable. It just was UNBEARABLE! But Fanboy understood that if he screamed, the nurses and doctors would come running, so he bit his lip, and the only noises that escaped him were almost inaudible whimpers and sobs.

The bed began to soak up his life essence and he finally leaned back, feeling the world begin to slip away. A little light began to appear in front of him. He smiled sadly. The heart monitor's beeping began to fade, and the objects in the room went blurry. Through his half-lidded eyes, he could just barely make out the image of the door opening, and someone gasping, "Oh my goodness!"

The person ran over to his side and began reapplying the bandages. "No…" Fanboy whispered. "Don't…" He weakly raised his arm, prepared to slap this person away, but another person held down his arms, and Fanboy was too weak to even resist.

The light before his eyes began to disappear and Fanboy let out a cry of pain as the person applied the last bandage. His vision began to clear, and he could now see what the people in front of him looked like. It was a man and a woman.

The woman looked about in her late twenties or early thirties, and she was working with his bandages. She was very beautiful. She was thin, had dark brown hair, flat-headed, and she had brown eyes. (Hey, it's a cartoon remember?)

The man was holding his arms down and looked about in his mid-thirties. He had a strong build, and looked a bit intimidating, so Fanboy mustered up his best glare and tried to stare the man down. It did the exact opposite, and the man caught his glare by surprise. He laughed. "Ha! You're a tough one, are you not?" A flicker of amusement crossed the man's face, and Fanboy's own face burned with anger. He hated it when people laughed at him when he wasn't attempting to crack jokes. His fists tightened as he resisted the urge to rip the man's face off.

The woman gazed at Fanboy's angry face and sensed this. "Oh, hush! You know you're not supposed to interact with patients! That's my job!" She scolded the man, and he shrugged, finally letting go of Fanboy's arms. Fanboy took a breath and said to the woman, "Next time, d-don't put those back on."

The woman smiled sympathetically at Fanboy's face, and she ran a hand through his hair. "Sorry sweetie. It's my job to save people from dying. Like a super hero."

She saw the slightest bit of amazement flicker across Fanboy's face and he looked up at her in curiosity. "L-Like a superhero…?" He croaked. She smiled and nodded. "That's right. Like a superhero!" She said.

She then bit her lip and sighed. She had seen his blood-caked costume, and decided to use it to her advantage when the time came to talk to him.

This boy looked like a holy nightmare when the ambulance had brought him in, along with another little girl. He was practically drowning in his own blood, ranting and delirious about Chum Chum and mumbling gibberish and crying all at once. Mentally hysterical. His eyes looked wild and distrusting then, and they did now as well. They were a bright emerald color and they shone with the light. His skin was fair, a pale color. His teeth were straight, excluding the bucked ones in the front, but they were white and clean. His hair was a soft golden-brown. Not glossy, but incredibly soft. Once they had rinsed all the blood off of his body and tended to his injuries, everyone saw that he was surprisingly an adequate specimen of a child, with his exterior at least.

"There," the woman said at last, dabbing away as much blood as she could. "Good as new." Fanboy's hand fumbled with the bandage, trying to get rid of it as soon as she stood up. The man gently gripped Fanboy's hands when he saw this, pulling them away from the bandages. The deranged child struggled frantically to take his hands away, grunting slightly. "You better not lay a finger on those bandages," the man cautioned, "or else we're leaving you in a straightjacket."

Fanboy's hands froze at the thought of being thrown in a mental-asylum, and the man smiled. "That's better. Man, these kids will believe anything!" –To the woman. She rolled her eyes. "I told you that you couldn't talk to him," she said, and the man stood up.

"Sorry!" He shrugged, elongating his arms. "A guy's got to do what a guy's got to do," and with that said and done, the man marched out the door.

The woman sighed and looked down at the small boy, who was now trembling with fear. "Don't mind him," The woman said, kneeling down to Fanboy's level with a kind smile on her face, "He's just so full of himself. Anyway, I'll be back in a half and hour with your lunch, all right sweetie?"

Fanboy just stared at her. She reminded him of someone. Where had he heard someone call him sweetie before? "Okay," He whispered timidly, averting his emerald eyes from her sapphire ones.

"All right! See you soon!" She said cheerfully, and then she walked out the door, shut it behind her, and locked it. She stared at the door for a few moments before biting her lip. He looked so broken.

Fanboy stared at the plain white door, and heard the lock click. She…She locked him in. Crazy. She knew he was crazy and that he would hurt someone if he tried to escape.

"I would though, wouldn't I?" Fanboy thought to himself miserably. "I have to get out of here. I do-I have to GET OUT! How…?" He looked around the room. "Well, first I need to see where I am."

He shifted his body a few inches and tried to it up. Gritting his teeth to ignore the pain, the super-fan slowly, inch-by-inch raised himself to a sitting position. Tears leaked down his face, as the stinging grew worse. He swung his thin legs off the side of the bed, and then eased himself onto the floor.

Fanboy shivered, and he grabbed the bed-sheet, wrapping it around his naked body tightly. He stumbled over to the barred window and looked out.

He…He was in a completely different city. All the buildings looked different, the people walking around outside were different, and even the birds were different. One fluttered by his window. A pigeon, not a seagull… He stared at it and it stared back without fear, cocking its head to the side. It cooed at him softly before taking fly diving and swooping above the large crowds of people.

Fanboy placed a hand on one of the bars and glanced at the courtyard below. There was a sign, a billboard in front of the building he was in. He craned his neck and squint his eyes in order to read the pale blue letters on the cream colored sign. "Rockwell's…Mental…Hospital," Fanboy muttered to himself. The realization hit him full force. "I'm in a crazy home."

He suddenly felt lightheaded, and his fingers loosened their grip, letting the sheet fall to his ankles. He stood frozen, shocked. "I-I can't believe it," He whispered, "I'm in a crazy home. That guy wasn't kidding! I am going into a mental asylum! Oh my gosh…" What would this mean for him? How long would they keep him in there? Fanboy tried to recall everything he knew about mental hospitals. ...Not much. He used to watch cop shows and sometimes they would put the bad guy in jail, but only once did Fanboy catch a glimpse of a mental asylum on television.

There were no windows to speak of. The only door was locked. But the defining feature about a mental asylum was the white, padded walls and floors. It was eerie, and while it looked harmless, it looked terrifying. It was a place Fanboy never wanted to spend his days.

Fanboy shoved his face into his trembling hands and slowly slid to the floor. "I have to get out of here, and if I can't do that…" He stared up at the barred window. "I can't jump…" He jerked his head to quickly survey the room. "Maybe there's…there's some pills in the cabinets!" He said. "Wait, no. The doctors wouldn't be stupid enough to leave me alone with pills."

He slumped in defeat and then straightened abruptly to the sharp pains in his back. Tears trailed down his face for the umpteenth time, and he brought his knees to his face. "I GIVE UP!" He cried. "I C-CAN'T DO T-THIS!" He began to rock back and forth, and sobbed. "I WANNA GO HOME!" Ugh. He sounded so stupid like a little kid! Fanboy gripped the pale blue blanket and covered his face with it. The ground was unbearably cold against his skin, but he didn't care in the least. "I'll just die." Fanboy thought miserably. "I'll just…" A few moments later, he passed out from the agony and enervation.

A little later, just as confirmed, the woman returned with Fanboy's lunch: Teriyaki chicken and applesauce in a dish. "Hi, Sweetie!" She called out. "You must be starving!" She stood motionless and ogled at the unconscious boy sprawled on the floor. Tossing the food aside, she quickly knelt beside him and frantically inspected the figure. She brought a delicate hand to his throat and oh thank GOD, there was a pulse! The woman sighed as relief flooded through her being. Keeping a close eye on Fanboy, she closed and locked the door behind her. She then picked him up as gently as she could as set him back on the bed, draping the bed sheet over his body. Fanboy didn't stir. The woman placed the tray of food on the bedside table and refilled his water glass. Then she left.

True to his word, Fanboy had given up. He refused to eat or drink anything and to take any of his pills unless he had the bottle given to him so he could do away with himself; which did not happen of course. He didn't even bother getting out of bed, and what little muscle and fat he had disappeared.

His form became absolutely skeletal, and he lost almost as much weight as he had. The doctors had to eventually knock him unconscious and force a feeding tube down his throat. It worked for a while, but Fanboy caught on quickly, and the doctors had to struggle while he fought and kicked, never letting them near him. It was a harsh battle and Fanboy was eventually going to lose. Or win, if he died, because that was what he wanted, right? A few incidents after that, they failed to nourish him. Several people held him down while they knocked him out with a syringe so they could feed him with the machines. He wasn't really getting better physically. His body wasn't willing itself to get any better.

As for his psychological state, he didn't understand that the doctors and therapists were trying to help him. He just saw monsters. He ignored anyone who was talking to him and if he didn't ignore the person, he just gave him or her a threatening stare with his vibrant emerald eyes. Speaking with another person always centered on what had happened with him and Yo, and his anger fueled easily. After the conversation would become too graphic and detailed on what had happened, he would simply shut down and refuse to talk. Sometimes, he would and yell and scream at the person to leave him alone, that he didn't want to hear anything about it. It was different with other patients. They would at least talk. They would at least show some participation. He didn't. The staff was always arguing over where to place him and who his psychologist should be. He'd meet him or her in a couple of days.

The woman brought his dinner tray again that evening, and again, he had no interest in it. She cocked her head to the side in confusion as he turned away from the tray and hiccuped. How could he not be hungry? She knew that back home, according to his associates, that he had been practically starving himself. He was completely undernourished, so he needed to eat, or he would die very easily. She sighed heavily and knelt down until he was eye-level with him.

"Sweetie-"

"FANBOY!" He interrupted suddenly, causing her to jump. She hadn't heard him speak the whole time he was here. "My name is Fanboy." He muttered. He glared in annoyance at the plastic bracelet that seemed to be a permanent addition to his wrist. He didn't bother reading it, instead twisting the wristlet around, obviously more a shackle to him than anything else.

"Is it?"

"…"

"Well, Fanboy. Aren't you going to eat?"

Fanboy didn't answer and just simply gazed at her face. She waited. Ten seconds passed and he sighed. "I'm not hungry," He whispered hoarsely.

"You aren't? You know if you eat, you'l feel a lot better than you do now."

"Ngh…"

The woman glared for a moment. She waited for another response, and when she received none, she sighed and stood up. "Fine," she said. "You eat when I'm gone."

"I don't want to!" Fanboy replied sharply, clenching the blankets. "So stop asking me!"

The woman didn't even blink. She simply nodded and shut the door. Fanboy tensed up, waiting for the click of the lock…and waited…and waited…

There was nothing except for silence, sweet silence.

Fanboy quickly sat up just in time to hear the woman's high heels click-clack all the way down the hall, and then silence. She forgot to lock the door… How did she forget to lock the door? Fanboy's heart beat as this only meant one thing: escape. He swung his legs over the sides of the bed and wrapped the blanket around his exposed body. His feet gently touched the coolness of the floor and he tread quietly to the door. Shoes… They took his shoes… Fanboy's brows furrowed and growled in anger.

Wait… What if he ran into trouble? He glanced back at his tray of food and saw a plastic knife perched upon the chicken. Thin enough to cut soft food but not enough to cut through skin. It would have to do. He gripped the knife in his trembling fingers and with determination; he placed a hand on the metal doorknob, twisted it, opened the door, and stepped out quietly. He looked to his left: clear. He glanced to his right: clear.

Fanboy breathed deeply and started down the brightly lit hallway, moving as quietly as he could. The cold traveled from his feet to the rest of his body and he shivered. "Why is this an arctic freeze?" It was even colder out here and he felt so exposed. His heart beat faster and faster as he passed by a sign that said: Lobby with an arrow pointing to his right. Looking to his left he saw an Exit sign. "This is it," he whispered, as tears of happiness trailed down his already tear stained cheek. This was literally it. "I'm out of h-"

"FANBOY?"

He whipped around in dismay. That woman was there, holding a coffee cup and a newspaper. They both stared at each other. Slowly, she reached down into her back pocket and pulled out a walkie-talkie. Fanboy's eyes nearly doubled in size and he sprinted for the exit doors, the bed sheet flailing behind him like a cape. His body was excessively exposed, but he didn't care. Waves of pain traveled up his torso with each step.

Behind him, the woman yelled, "SECURITY! There's an escaping patient in corridor five! I need help STAT!" Just as Fanboy's hand touched the doorknob, strong hands wrapped around his waist and yanked him backwards, causing him to fall backwards. More pain... In panic, Fanboy had let go of the knife and it flew across the room.

He watched helplessly as it skidded to a stop—seven yards away from his body. He twisted and turned his form and gripped his captor's shoulders, digging his fingernails in flesh as hard as he could. He heard a feminine hiss of pain and he almost grinned in triumph.

_"Kill her." _

That thought again.

The two struggled for a few moments, and finally, the woman sat on his legs and pinned his hands down with hers. He growled up at her, and he twisted his body around, so that he was face down. His face burned, and he began to see red.

_"Kill her. Kill her. Kill her." _

His fingers swiped at the woman's face, his long fingernails leaving several bleeding scratches in her face. She tried to push his hand away, but he was much too quick, and so blood began to drip from her face.

_"Kill her. Kill her. Kill her." _

The woman sobbed quietly, not even trying to block the scratching attacks. Fanboy let little growls escape his throat as his common sense melted away, leaving him untamed. He had to escape. He HAD to. He was so close, and this idiot was ruining everything! Fanboy inched closer and closer to the door as the struggle continued. He reached out a trembling hand and finally gripped the doorknob. The woman clung to his waist and grabbed the hand that gripped the doorknob. Fanboy used his other hand to yank her arm off his waist. He was so close. He was so close… Freedom was inches away…

_"Kill her. Kill her. Kill her." _

She only had one option. Digging her free hand into her pocket, she searched frantically for what would put him down. She fished out a syringe from her pocket, filled with a bright-blue liquid.

As Fanboy caught sight of it, he went nuts, pounding her face over and over again. Letting out a cry, the woman jabbed the needle into his collarbone and inserted the medication into his bloodstream.

_"Kill her. Kill her. Kill her." _

The boy gasped and she deposited the needle as quickly as she had inserted it. He let out a ragged shriek and clawed feebly at his own neck, maybe he thought that it would drain the medication. It didn't, of course, and the woman watched sadly as his struggling became weaker and weaker. The medication finally took effect and he made one last desperate attempt to reach the doorknob. The rest of his body lost its energy and his hand touched the cool, metal surface of the doorknob, but the medication was too strong. He finally let his hand fall and became still. "I want to go home… Chum Chu…" He mumbled barely audible. He lost consciousness for the second time that day.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10 (Rough Draft)**

Fanboy didn't wake until the next day until about noon. When he finally did, he knew something was wrong. He couldn't move his arms, and it was completely silent. Fanboy looked wildly around the room. It was completely cushioned, the walls and the floor both. It was cushioned with soft, white pads.

He was in a mental asylum.

"...No."

Fanboy glanced down in horror and realized that he was wearing a straight jacket. "Oh no! Oh gosh, oh gosh! T-this c-can't be happening!"

Whimpering hysterically, he shuffled his body over to a corner of the room, tripping over his own feet several times in the process.

Looking down once more, he saw that he was wearing his costume. The blood had been washed out and his shoes were back as well. Only his cape was missing, for they were aware that he could hang himself. His shoelaces were gone as well.

Fanboy sniffed and laid his head on one of the soft cushions. He just wanted to go home, was that too much to ask? Well, apparently for these people. Fanboy lay silent, wondering, and lost in his own thoughts.

Silence…

Then, _"Hi Fanboy!" _

Fanboy looked up. "...CHUM CHUM?!" He gasped.

Silence…

_"See you later, Fanboy!"_

Fanboy nearly doubled over from shock. "W-WAIT! Don't leave me… Wait… Chum Chum…" The boy was gone.

Silence…

Fanboy laughed and cried hysterically at same time. "Ch-Chum ChuuUUUUuuuM! Please! D-Don't l-l-leave me…" When Fanboy received no reply, he brought his knees to his face and screamed. "Please, SOMEONE! ANYONE! HELP ME! I NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE! PLEASE, I NEED TO GO HOME! I WANNA GO HOOOOOME!"

The lights turned off, and Fanboy was shrouded in complete darkness. He hiccuped and let out some gasp-like sobs and fell on his side, tears smearing along the cushioned floor.

After a night of nothing but terror-filled nightmares, Fanboy finally awoke from his uncomfortable slumber. The lights were lit again, and it was completely silent. Fanboy sniffed and tried to sit up, but doing that was difficult, because his arms were strapped around his torso.

"Another day of this, huh?" He said out loud. His voice echoed around the room. He had never felt so alone…

It was funny how he didn't feel hungry or thirsty. Had the doctors given him a medicine to stop all that? There was nothing to do but wait. Fanboy lay on his back and stared up at the ceiling, the only spot in the room that wasn't padded. Instead of cushions, bright lights hung from the ceiling, nearly blinding the boy.

As more and more time passed, the gears in Fanboy's mind began to slow, little by little. He barely moved. Only his chest moved up and down, according to his breathing. His eyes blinked, of course, but that was about it. When he was tired enough, he simply went to sleep, in the same position.

A few hours later, a man came into the room. He moved about swiftly, in a no-nonsense way, and he lightly picked up the boy and sped out of the room. Fanboy didn't bother to ask where they were going; he was just happy to be out of that mental-asylum. He buried his face in the crook of the man's neck, as the man tossed him over his shoulder. The man traveled for a while, down brightly lit corridors, passing many rooms and many patients, who looked up at the boy in curiosity.

Finally the two reached a small room. The man shut the door and gently placed the boy down. "Can you undress yourself?" He asked kindly, but in a rapid-fire kind of voice. He sounded like a TV show announcer. He wore a pale green suit, had snazzy hair, and a green fedora hat.

Fanboy looked up at him in confusion. "Of course I can," He stated, his voice hoarse from the lack of use. Then he thought, "Remember, you're in a mental hospital, and this guy thinks you're crazy. Just go along with whatever he says."

"Great, go ahead and undress yourself and I'll be right back—I just have to go get another patient." With that said and done, the man ran out, shutting the door behind him.

Part of Fanboy wanted to leave the room. So he tried the doorknob, and of course, it was locked. The super-fan heaved a sigh and looked at the uniform. Fanboy quickly stripped himself as quietly as he could, and for the first time, he noticed that the strait jacket was gone. He quickly stripped himself, tossing his clothes and shoes aside.

He took a deep breath. "Okay, relax," he thought to himself. He worked his way around the bandage and managed to dress himself completely.

Fanboy heard the door open and close and he whipped around, blinking rapidly because of the water, to see whom the intruder was. His jaw dropped open in shock, as did the intruder's. Yo.

Both preteens stood frozen, and both had the same thing on their minds. Fanboy was the first to speak it though, "W-What are you doing here?" He gawked at her, completely forgetting that he was nude. A flicker of fear and a tiny blush spread across Yo's face. She bit her lip. "Yo? Q-Quit looking!" He hissed in embarrassment, and Yo averted her eyes to the ground. Her blush grew.

"You can't look either!" Yo said, placing her hands on her hips.

"W—What?" Fanboy asked angrily, still a bit put out that his privacy had been invaded by… by a girl.

"Because Mr. Johnson said that I'm assigned to change here," she explained, obviously just as unhappy by the prospect as Fanboy was. "So don't look."

Fanboy's mouth stood agape. "H-He told you to change _here_?" He muttered in disbelief. "What a weirdo..." He watched with wide eyes as she turned her back towards him and began to take off her sunny-yellow shirt.

"Don't look!" She hissed, but Fanboy didn't move, watching in curious fascination and shock as she removed her shirt completely, along with the rest of her clothes. The blush on his face grew darker, and a slightly uncomfortable feeling invaded his body. Yo whipped her own body around to check if Fanboy was looking, and to her shock, he was. She let out a little shriek of her own and tied to cover herself with her hands. "I TOLD YOU NOT TO LOOK!" She yelled.

Fanboy glared at her. "You were looking at ME! So we're even!"

Yo merely scowled at the male.

When she finally settled down, the two remained silent, and simply stared at each other. The boy played nervously with his thumbs for a moment, and kept glancing up at the girl, even if he got red in the face and felt ashamed for even looking at her.

"S-So," He mumbled quietly.

Yo looked up and raised her eyebrows. "Mm?"

He bit his lip apprehensively and cleared his throat. "S-So, why are you here?"

Yo looked at the soapy patterns in the warm water. "The same reasons you're here, I suppose. Freaky imagery can do a lotta stuff to hurt my brain."

Fanboy nodded and put on a half-smile. "R-Right…"

The two were silent again for a few moments.

"Yo?"

"…Mm?"

"D-Do you… Um… Are you mad at me?"

Yo didn't answer and Fanboy added quickly, "It's okay. I understand."

Yo sighed, "Why?"

"Why… What?"

"Why were you hurting me? Y-You just attacked me. After all we did. After all I did for you."

Nothing could make Fanboy feel any crummier than he did then. "…I don't know. I don't know what came over me. I-I just completely lost it." Fanboy mumbled. "I was so angry. About what people thought of me of what you thought of me, Chum Chum's death… I-I've been holding it in…so long-"

"FANBOY!" Yo interrupted. Fanboy stopped.

"Just…" Yo shook her head, "Never mind. Don't say anything, Fanboy. I don't want to hear it."

"W-What?" The boy whispered in consternation.

"Don't come near me. Don't touch me. Don't talk to me." Yo said unhurriedly, making sure her prestige would be understood. "If you can, don't look at me. I don't want to be involved anymore."

"B-But Yo-" She held up a hand and glanced away. She alleged, "I don't wanna hear it."

"Do you hate me?" Fanboy whispered and tears were brimming at his eyes at the moment. "You do, don't you?"

"No… I don't hate you. I'm just…tired of caring for you. I'm trying to help what's wrong with you, and that's the big problem. You tried to kill me. You tried to KILL me! I can't…no." She shook her head as she spoke. "It's like whatever I did for you never counted. None of it did. It was just… I don't even know you anymore. You are just so… I don't know WHAT to think of you. I don't hate you and I can't say I like you, not after what happened. I just… I don't want to be near you."

"Are ya scareda me?" Fanboy murmured, hoping to God that her answer would be no.

Yo didn't answer and Fanboy quietly sulked. The tears that he had been holding in for a while fell, and he turned his back to Yo. "_She's sick of seeing me cry,"_ He thought miserably. _"She doesn't like me. She hates me she hates me she hates me."_

"So we're not friends?" Fanboy choked out, not meeting her eyes.

No answer.

Fanboy glared at her then. "It's a yes or no question! Do you... Would you consider me a friend or not?"

Yo glared. "I. Don't. KNOW!"

Fanboy gritted his teeth as his temper began to rise. This was so important! He just had to know! "JUST ANSWER THE QUESTION!" He yelled, his anger reaching its peak.

He stared at Yo, who drew back further away from him, her face pale, and her eyes wide. "Don't hurt me!" She warned, squaring herself up. "Don't hurt me, please."

Fanboy ignored her sudden fear and stepped forward nonetheless. "No! I'm sick of this!" Fear was replaced with anger and hatred. "_Stop talking to me! Don't look at me!" _He mimicked in a whiny voice. "_Why aren't ya **normal**?! Why cant you be **normal**!?" _He reached forward and grasped one of her pigtails.

Yo raised her fist and it entered his lie of sight. He fell backwards and gasped.

"NEVER TOUCH ME AGAIN!" The girl yelled. She stood over him, and gave him a painful stomp in between the legs.

…

"Hey! Are you all right, Kid?" Fanboy opened his eyes to see a hand and a flashlight waving in front of his face. He licked at his lips and tasted blood, and even worse, a gap where one of his canine teeth used to be. "She can really punch hard," Fanboy gasped, and he tried sitting up. He looked around.

"Boy," said the man, clearly impressed. "She did a number on you, didn't she? Terrific shiner!"

"What?" Fanboy brought a hand up to his face and rested it over his black eye. Great, it was swollen. He could barely see. He pointed this out. "Well," the man laughed, tousling his hair, "you still have your other eye!"

"That one's glass," Fanboy replied flatly.

"You have a glass eye, huh? Interesting! Are you okay?" The man asked. Fanboy nodded slowly. "I saw you and that girl, and boy was she beating the tar out of you! Did you get in a fight?" The man asked.

Fanboy wanted to scream, "NO KIDDING SHERLOCK!" Instead, he said, "I tripped and fell on her," He mumbled. "She got the wrong idea."

"Oh, well that's a head-scratcher! How did that happen?"

Fanboy blinked, and pain took over for the millionth time. "D-Do you know where she is?" He asked.

The man rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "You know, I think she was led back to her room.

"Oh, okay."

"Perhaps she went to the cafeteria for lunch. You're heading there, right?" The man asked, patting Fanboy on the back.

"I guess so," Fanboy answered. He tried lifting himself up, but noticed many bruises aligning his legs and waist and arms. There even a couple of bruises aligning his sensitive areas. The man noticed Fanboy's struggling and gently helped him up, and he was even kind enough to help Fanboy get dressed into his outfit.

"Now," the man said firmly, dusting on Fanboy's shoulders, "you need to keep out of her way, if you don't want trouble, understand?"

"I don't want any trouble," Fanboy mumbled, keeping his head lowered to hide his face.

"Hey," The man's fingers crept under Fanboy's chin and tilted his head up to face him. "You're a good-looking kid, but that doesn't mean that you can pounce over any girl you want and expect them to be your slave. Many wouldn't like it."

Fanboy just stared at him. "What are you talking about?"

"Nothing. Hey! It's time for lunch! Let us go get something to eat, what do you say?" The man asked cheerfully, smacking Fanboy on the back, which almost caused the boy to topple over.

"O-Okay."

"That's the spirit! Now, I know what you're thinking!" the man said, as they walked out the door and down the hallway, "Hospital food? Yuck! That must be extremely horrible, right? Wrong! You know, here they serve great foods, like salad, and pizza, and burritos, and for drinks they have soda and water, and milk, and Frosty Freezy Freeze, and Slushies'…"

Luckily, Fanboy had tuned the man out before he even spoke his second sentence during their walk. It was a long one too, and Fanboy thought that his eardrums would break if this guy wouldn't hush up in the next minute.

"…And some of the other patients you'll be meeting are really interesting people! You'll meet them in our icebreaker circle! And-OH! Here we are: the cafeteria!" Fanboy snapped out of his thoughts and glanced at the double doors that stood before him. The man moved forward and with a friendly smile, he pushed the door open for Fanboy. The young male rushed past him, mumbling out a quiet thank-you.

As soon as Fanboy entered the cafeteria, he froze in his tracks. The place was packed with crowds of people, probably over two hundred of them, from older preteens to older teenagers. Fanboy felt so small compared to everyone else, and felt even weaker as the force from tall, sullen male bumping into him made him nearly topple over as he zoomed past with his lunch tray.

The man who had directed Fanboy walked up behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Do you want to sit with me?" he asked gently. Fanboy nodded quickly. "All right, go ahead and get your lunch over there in that line and I'll be sitting at table Z. Sound good?" Fanboy nodded again, eager to at least make a friend.

The man smiled and started to walk to the end of the cafeteria.

Fanboy thought for a moment. "W-Wait, Mr.!"

The man turned around. "Yes?"

"What about your lunch?"

He laughed and pointed to his fanny pack. "I've got tater-tots! Oh, and one more thing…?" He called.

"…Y-Yeah?" Fanboy replied hastily.

"Call me Eliot! Remember that! See you at table Z!" Elliot walked away into the crowd of talking, laughing people.

Fanboy bit his lip and slowly made his way over to the lunch line, trying not to draw attention to his own self. He also kept his head down so nobody would notice his black eye. Ugh. He wished that he still had his mask. Maybe he could ask the staff if they had any paper bags. Nobody was in line, so he figured that he was a bit late to lunch.

He sighed and looked at the serve-yourself food that was displayed before him. Okay, there was a little left. Good. Feeling his appetite coming back, Fanboy piled up mini corn dogs on his pate along with some strawberries and a cheeseburger. At the end of the line there was a soda machine, so he filled his cup up with the convenient drink: Frosty Freezy Freeze.

Fanboy lifted his head and scanned the crowd, looking for Elliot at table Z. As he scanned the crowd, he locked eyes with a blonde girl. For a moment, they just stared at each other, and then she nudged another girl sitting next to her, whispered something, and pointed at Fanboy.

Then that girl nudged the rest her friends and they too, stared at Fanboy. He felt his face heat up, and he began to stroll past the table, gripping his lunch tray until his knuckles underneath his gloves became white. He felt stares burning at the back of his head, and he had a feeling that they weren't impressive or friendly stares.

It was bearable, he supposed, until someone pointed, laughed, and yanked on his cape. Fanboy glared at the person who gripped his cape, and he yanked it away from the guy. Unfortunately, Fanboy yanked too hard, and he lost his grip on his tray, causing it fall, of COURSE, on the toughest-looking kid in the cafeteria. The kid shrieked as corn dogs and strawberries pelted him. Fanboy managed to catch the Frosty Freezy Freeze before it landed on the kid. The kid's friends laughed and some hid their giggles behind their hands.

The kid slowly, menacingly, began to turn around until he caught sight Fanboy, who was gathering his tray from the floor. The kid rose from the table and inspected Fanboy, looking over him.

Jeez, the kid was a whole head taller than him! He looked about sixteen or seventeen. The kid's mouth dropped open, as if he was shocked, and then he started to laugh. It started a chain reaction, and soon, the whole cafeteria was laughing, and Fanboy was the source. "Oh NO WAY, MAN!" the kid yelled with glee. "NO WAY!"

"Aw, just leave him alone, Blake!" A girl laughed.

Blake moved towards Fanboy so fast that Fanboy had barely any time to process it. He gazed up at the teenager's face, which had now contorted into a scowl. "You have got to be kidding me!"

Fanboy bit his lip and looked down at the tile floor. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. It was an accident."

"Not the FOOD, you IDIOT! What the Hell do you think I was talking about! What the Hell is wrong with you, Retard?" Blake cackled. "Dressed up like that. What are you in for? Being a psycho nerd?"

The younger male bristled for a moment. "Psycho Nerd? Wow, did you spend all night coming up with that one?" Fanboy retorted, and everyone in the cafeteria "oohed"

Blake just smiled. "Actually, it was a month. Hm…I'll bet you're wondering who I am."

Fanboy rolled his eyes, "I didn't ask you."

Blake's smile got wider and he shook a fist. Fanboy didn't care. He was so sick of being picked on. "Oh wait, let me guess. You must be the cliché bully in the movies! Nobody else would be this…" Fanboy grimaced and finished with, "Stereotypical."

"Pfft. That is such a cute outfit! Did your boyfriend get it for you? So what's your name: Fagboy?" The teenager snickered.

Fanboy's eyes grew furious and he yanked the lid off of his Frosty Freezy freeze, and dumped it on Blake's shirt. Everything and everyone was silent for a moment.

Craaack!

Fanboy stumbled backwards a few feet, his eyes wide from shock. Blood burst from his nose for the second time that day, and leaked from his mouth as another tooth came loose. Thank goodness he still had baby teeth. Blake swung again, and this time, Fanboy ducked, and kicked at Blake, aiming for his thigh. He aimed a bit too high though, and Blake screeched. Another punch sent Fanboy reeling with pain on the floor, his blood splattering among the cold, tile floor.

Were there no counselors in this place? Somebody had to take control of these patients. A swift kicked landed him in the gut and Fanboy lost his breath. Where was Elliot? Fanboy scanned the crowd, but couldn't the man's face anywhere.

"E-E-Elliot…"Fanboy coughed out, and he started to feebly crawl away. Everyone in the cafeteria had forgotten all about their lunches and was now circling the two, shouting, "FIGHT, FIGHT, AND FIGHT!"

A strong pair of hands grabbed Fanboy's ankles and dragged him to the center of the circle. Fanboy weakly tried to lift himself up from the floor, but Blake kicked him in the back of the head, causing him to collapse back onto the tile.

"GO BLAKE!" Fanboy's vision swam as he lifted his head toward the direction of the sound. Yo… and…MARSHA? Fanboy tried shaking his head clear, but another kick from Blake blurred his vision. He could barely make out a blurry image of Marsha pumping her fists in the air. "YEAH! BLAKE! YOU GOT THISSSS! KICK HIM WITH ALL YOU'VE GOT!" Fanboy gazed at them and he began to smile from dizziness until Blake's foot caught him in the side of the face. The room hushed, everyone in the audience shocked, waiting, not wanting to miss a movement or word. Fanboy felt tears leaking out of his eyes, and he began to feel layers of anxiety creep up his spine.

"Wait, your name is FANBOY? Oh, this is too much!" Blake howled, laughing so hard that he almost kneeled over. "THAT'S YOUR NAME? OH MY GOD, YOU ARE SO STUPID!" His laughter echoed through the now silent room.

Fanboy felt his heart clench and he faintly tried to crawl away once more, but Blake quickly blocked his path and continued to further taunt him.

"Come on, little super hero!" Blake mocked harshly, "Come on and get up and fight! Aw! Are you too weak? Are you too pathetic? I'm cliché?" he laughed. "You have got to be the worst super wannabe I've ever seen!" Blake taunted. He stood over Fanboy's broken body and noticed the amount of blood pouring out of his mouth. He laughed and poked Fanboy's back with his foot. "Well? Are you going to fight? Huh? Are you, Psycho nerd?"

Just as it had with that fateful day he had attacked Yo, anger seemed to fuel his energy. He trembled with rage, tears pouring down his face and mixing with his blood, his fists clenching and unclenching, his teeth grinding together. With a furious screech, Fanboy swung his fist at Blake's face, and broke his nose. Many people cheered. Blood ran down Blake's peach complexion, and he screamed, bringing his hands to his face. He then grabbed Fanboy's collar, yanked him up, and whispered in his ear, "You're so dead, Retard. Oh, and you think little Elliot is coming to your rescue? Oh how pathetic do you think he is?"

He then slammed Fanboy's body back to the floor and sat on his arms, so that he couldn't move. Blake slugged Fanboy's face again and again. Blood once again stained Fanboy's costume, neon mixing with crimson. The pain he was in was indescribable.

"He's had enough, Blake!" Someone called out, and Blake glared at the caller: a petite blonde.

"No way I'm going to stop! He deserves this!" The teen replied sharply.

Fanboy began sobbing, not even caring that he looked so stupid or helpless. He just wanted to go home! Unfortunately, his crying drew the attention of the teenager away from the blonde. "S-STOP HURTING ME…!" He cried, struggling with all his might to get away from the older male. He flailed his arms helplessly, screaming, "PLEASE! SOMEONE PLEASE HELP!"

"Hold on, Fanboy! We're coming!" Out of the corner of his eye, Fanboy saw Marsha and Yo still struggling to get to him, but were being held back by what looked like Blake's friends. Another punch tore his attention away from the girls.

"S-STOP IT! STOP IT STOP IT! STOP IT!" Fanboy screamed. Blake paid no attention. He twisted Fanboy's arm until he heard it crack, causing some students to retch in disgust, and some to shout approval. White, hot pain, traveled through Fanboy's arm, and he let out irrepressible gasps of agony.

Blake, with a sadistic grin, gripped Fanboy's shoulders, still hovering over him, and began kneeing him in between the legs. A soft crunch followed after the first knee and Fanboy moaned as it continued. The teenager even began yanking at the younger one's hair, just anything he could do to torture the boy. Gripping both sides of Fanboy's skull with his hands, Blake began slamming his head into the ground, over and over and over…

"BLAKE! STOP! You're KILLING HIM!" A brunette girl yelled. Someone in the audience was crying.

Blake glanced over to the girl, and then back at the crying, bloody lump he had beaten. He grinned and Fanboy merely continued to sob, curling up into a little ball.

"Fine, he's not worth my time." He got up and started to walk away, but then he stopped and glanced back at Fanboy. "But he makes a hell of a good punching bag!" Fanboy didn't reply, and Blake shrugged and walked away, the crowd parting for him like Moses and the Red Sea.

Blake's friends let Yo and Marsha run over to Fanboy, and trailed after Blake. The rest of the patients began to file out too, and soon, the three were alone. Yo leaned over Fanboy, and began wiping the blood off of his face. "Marsha? Get me a rag from the belt!" Marsha nodded and sped off, leaving Yo alone with Fanboy, who was still crying.

"Shhhh," Yo soothed. As gently as she could, she lifted Fanboy's head and placed it on her lap, not caring if the blood stained her clothes, and obviously forgetting that she had wanted Fanboy to stay away from her. "It's going to be okay, Fanboy. It's going to be okay…" She smoothed his hair down and brushed it out of his eyes.

"Y-Y-YO!" He sobbed hysterically. "I'm s-s-sorry I l-landed o-on you!" At first, she didn't know what he was talking about, and then it clicked.

"It's okay," She whispered sympathetically, "I overreacted. I'm sorry."

As he continued to cry, Marsha finally brought back a damp washrag, and handed it to Yo, and she began to dab the blood off of Fanboy's face as gently as she could. Marsha held his hand tenderly in hers.

At that moment, Elliot walked out of the rest room. "Whoo! That was a long-!" He stopped short and stared at the three children. "HOLY SMOKES! WHAT HAPPENED?!" Elliot sprinted over to the kids and knelt down beside Fanboy.

Marsha said somberly, "Blake Hartwell pulverized him."

Elliot looked intently at her in shock. "Blake did this?"

Marsha shrugged, as if it were no big deal. "Blake does it all the time. Of coursssse, you are never here where you are suppossssed to be."

Elliot ignored her comment and inspected Fanboy's injuries. Carefully, the man picked up Fanboy and began carrying him bridal-style out of the cafeteria.

Yo looked after them anxiously. "Is, is he going to be alright?" She called out. Elliot pushed one of the double doors open with his hip. He gave Yo a half smile and asked, "Physically or emotionally?" And then he left.

"Both?" Yo called out sheepishly, and she glanced at Marsha, who was looking down at her in suspicion.

"You know, I'd never thought that I would be so happy to see him alive."

Yo sighed.

"Hey," Marsha asked, "What are you two doing at this place?"

Yo shook her head. "I tried to help Fanboy. Now I have problems."


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11**

The man started jogging don the hallways, glancing now and then at Fanboy to make sure he hadn't fallen unconscious. "I'm sorry this hadda happen t' ya," He whispered softly. Fanboy made no response.

Finally, Elliot found the First Aid office and he walked in, still holding the sobbing child. He laid Fanboy down on the army cot and began searching for gauze and bandages. The young male simply stared up at the ceiling, letting out little hiccupping cries. "I-It really hurts, a lot!" Fanboy moaned, and as he spoke, large blood droplets flew from his mouth and splattered his costume.

Elliot nodded, as he finally found the gauze. "I know, but I'll fix you up and you'll be good as new in no time at all!" He knelt down beside Fanboy and wrapped the gauze around the more serious injuries.

"Can you move your fingers?" He motioned to Fanboy's left arm; the one Blake had broken. Fanboy tried to wiggle his fingers, but there was no signal, no life, just pain.

He whimpered and glanced at Elliot for help. Elliot nodded in understanding and called some doctors on his walkie-talkie. In no time at all, the doctors arrived and injected Fanboy's body with a syringe. The pain disappeared, and Fanboy fell dead to the world.

…

_"Wow, Fanboy, your first day, and already you've picked fights!"_

_"It wasn't my fault! That Blake kid, he was the one picking a fight! Not me!"_

_"..."_

_"I hate this place! This is the so-called help that everyone was talking about? That's crazy!"_

_"Crazy? Oh, you're the one to talk."_

_"Yeah, I get it YobnaF. I'm crazy. I'm insane, nutty, mad, barmy, screwy, batty, wacky. But how the heck will throwing and trapping me in a locked room make me feel better?"_

_"You're suicidal. And they want to put you in a safer place where you can't hurt yourself. That's why they took away your cape when you were in the Mental Asylum. What do you think "mental asylum" means?"_

_"…But how did they know that?"_

_"Well, maybe they didn't and they just tossed you in there because you are an insane, wild animal who almost killed two people."_

_"…"_

_"Wild, crazy animals need to be locked up. You should be locked up, away from normal, decent people. You need to be. You're a danger to yourself and everyone around you. Nobody is safe near you."_

_"S-Stop."_

_"Why? You need to hear the truth."_

_"I KNOW THE TRUTH!"_

_"Everything that you touch breaks or slips away. Just like the toys you broke."_

_"N-No."_

_"Yes. Everyone hates you. They want you gone, washed out, just clear out of existence. Nobody wants you. Nobody loves you."_

_"SHUT UP! That's not true!"_

_"I'm not even real. I'm just a figment of your mind."_

_"You're not? ...I figured as much."_

_"Pathetic, you never have any friends, so you created me. You already had your imaginary friend. Flappy, was it?"_

_"Y-Yeah."_

_"After Chum Chum died, you've been so desperate for an explanation, wanting a reason for why Chum Chum had to die. You created a dark, evil thing. You figured if there had to be a reason, why not make one up? You were crazy from the start, Lance."_

_"I…I never…"_

_"What's more is that you were charged in guilt, guilty over the fact that something died that had never even existed."_

_"W-What do you mean?"_

_"You had a very special make-believe friend, Lance. Then came the day when you finally snapped, and the good quality part of your mind died. And I'm too good of an imaginary friend to tell you why."_

_"Tell me."_

_"I'm you Lance. You should already know."_

_"I don't."_

_ "The whole town went along with your little scheme. Everyone cooperated with it, including the teachers, the kids. Kyle was a bit freaked out by it all, but decided to go along with it. You wouldn't listen to anyone. You think you talking to Chum Chum? HA! You were talking to nothing. And Boog? Lenny? Ha! The two were too kind to tell you! They pretended to see Chum Chum to keep you from breaking."_

_ "…W-What?"_

_ "Only Yo truly joined you with your imaginary world. Only she could truly see. And she wanted it too. She's off her rocker."_

_ "Y-Yo? S-She's?"_

_ "Why do you think she freaked out at the accident? Why do you think that she is in this mental hospital? All she ever wanted was o bring you out of your fntasy world."_

_ "I don't believe you. Who died at the accident then?"_

_ "Nobody. The paramedics were just there to calm you down.."_

_ "W-Why didn't anyone-?"_

_ "Oh, they just felt so sorry for you. Oh, poor little child so lost and hurt in his own mind, without any family or friends, so alone, and forced to make up his own friends. They were far too kind to you. You always wondered why everyone thought you were weird, why everyone gave you strange glances while you were talking to and playing with your "Best Friend". You were talking to yourself. You were playing by yourself. You so badly wanted a friend. You wanted someone, someone to talk to you. You were tired of being the little boy without any friends. So you created a sidekick in preschool." _

_ "Y-You mean… He's not real? H-He was never real?"_

_ "He was just a figment of your imagination. Remember the mental asylum? You could imagine him. You talked him. Or the air, I suppose."_

_ "All these years… I've been talking to the walls of my house, to the air?"_

_ "Correct."_

_ "B-But I felt him, I hugged him!"_

_ "It was your mind playing tricks on your senses."_

_ "Why should I doubt my senses?"_

_ "Because the slightest thing can make them cheat. You... Are… Crazy... You've always been, along with that girl, Yo."_

_ "I…I don't believe you. You might be not real, but Chum Chum is—was."_

_ "You'll see."_

_ "Don't count on it. But I—" _

_ "Good. Because it's about time that you knew the truth. You've been locked up in your own little mind for far too long."_

_ …_

_ Fanboy didn't bother opening his eyes as the sleeping medicine had worn off. Why bother? He literally never had anything to live for from the start. _

…

"Not now YobnaF. Not now."

"…"

…

"Fanboy, I know you're awake. Please, now come with me. It's time we talked." It was that woman again, Beatrice C. Oh, his new psychologist.

"No," he muttered.

She sat down on the edge of his bed. Fanboy could feel the tension and it was making him uneasy. "Why don't you want to talk to me?" She asked gently.

"Because," he intoned.

"Because why?"

"lt won't do me any good."

Beatrice sighed. "You don't know that, Fanboy."

When he refused to move, she sighed softly and gently picked him up, careful to avoid his broken arm, this was now in a cast and sling. Fanboy felt his face press against her shirt and he fought with himself in the mind.

_"__Is it true?" _

_ "Yes."_

_ "N-No. He's real. I know he is."_

_ "No he isn't, you freak. Stop denying the facts!"_

Beatrice carried Fanboy all the way to her office, which was brightly lit and colorful. She gently lay Fanboy down on the armchair and sat down in her own, which was across from him. He opened his eyes and wished that he hadn't, for the second he did she started talking.

"Alright Sweetie... I'm just going to ask you a few questions for today, and I want you to answer me honestly, alright?" She was holding a clipboard, and a pencil was in her hand.

Fanboy barely nodded.

"Good. Now, what is your name?"

"Fanboy."

Beatrice clicked her tongue. "Is it?"

Was it? Easy enough of a question. Fanboy opened his mouth to say Fanboy again but then stopped. "M-My name is Lancelot. But you can call Lance, for short I guess."

The woman looked up. "Did you say Lance?" She looked oddly interested, "What's your last name?"

Fanboy thought for a moment. Honestly, he wasn't so sure. He never knew his parents' last names, and since he had no parents… "I don't think I know." He answered truthfully, "I just made one up for myself, from my memory I suppose."

"And what would that be?"

"Nothing. Never mind."

"What is your parents' last name?"

"They don't live with me."

The woman smiled at him for a while, and Fanboy gave a nervous smile back. "Do you know why your parents aren't with you?" She asked, a bit apprehensively.

Fanboy shrugged and tried to look bored. "I don't know. Maybe they just didn't like me and threw me out."

Beatrice bit her lip and took a deep breath. "That's not necessarily always the truth," She said, "Perhaps your parents couldn't afford to take care of you, and had to give you up. They might have loved you. Or perhaps your mother was single and thought that she couldn't raise you." She fidgeted. "Do you understand what I'm telling you?"

Fanboy nodded slowly. "Yes," he said, confused that she was about to cry. Beatrice looked down at her clipboard and quickly wrote something in it. "Where do you live?"

"I live in Galaxy Hills."

Beatrice tapped the end of her pencil on the top of the clipboard. "I mean your address, sweetie."

Fanboy looked confused. "You want my…address? Um…I live in a water tower." The woman's eyes widened and she wrote that down on the clipboard. "Do you know what street?"

"Oh, yeah. It's on Milk Way Lane."

The woman nodded and smiled, and Fanboy started to feel a bit safer. He gave a little smile back. "Who are your parents?"

Fanboy's smile froze, and then faded. He stared down at his hands. "I don't know."

Beatrice looked at him with concern. "What do you mean? Can you explain that?"

Fanboy went silent for a few moments. He stared up at the ceiling. "I-I just don't know," he said, flatly.

"Do you remember anything? Anything at all?"

"No."

"…Nothing?"

"Nada..."

"Oh, well. That's all right. If you can't remember something, don't worry about it. Just answer the questions honestly, and everything will be alright." Beatrice reassured Fanboy.

"Okay, Lance. Do you have any friends?"

Fanboy kept his gaze on the ceiling. "No."

"Are you sure?"

"I think so."

Beatrice nodded, "Is there anyone at school you played with?"

"Yes."

"What's his or her name?"

"His name was Chum Chum. But I don't think he's real."

The woman looked up from her clipboard. "And what do mean by, "not real"? She asked gently.

"I mean I don't think he's real. I think I made him up." Beatrice nodded leisurely, "I see."

"But he was nicer to me than anyone else ever has been. He lives with me. He follows me. After he supposedly died, I saw him in the mental asylum. I figured that he was an angel, and he just wanted to say a good bye. But he told me about you."

Beatrice nodded again slowly, "Did he?"

"Yes."

"Is he the only one you think isn't real?"

They were silent for a few moments. Fanboy began to tremble.

Wizards? Griffins? Sorcerers? Heroes? Aliens? Cerberus? That was real...

Beatrice looked over her notes and was impressed that she had managed to get the information she had from him. She smiled at him. "Well," she began, "I think you've done very well today. I am really looking forward to seeing you tomorrow, at four o' clock, all right? Is that okay?"

Fanboy thought for a moment. Well, it hadn't gone horribly. She just asked questions, and she wasn't demanding answers. She had been kind to him when asking about his parents, and she didn't mind when he couldn't remember. Like it was okay to forget.

"O-Okay," Fanboy said rather shakily, nodding quickly. Beatrice smiled and held out her hand. He thought for a moment that she was giving his something and reached out, but then she just shook his gloved hand. "All right," she replied happily. "It's official: tomorrow, at four o' clock!"


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12**

Fanboy sighed and looked at his chicken. Yo sat across from him. She had plucked up the courage earlier to talk to him again.

"So? Yo asked, pressing forward with curious wide eyes. "How was she?"

He shrugged and took a bite of chicken, causing him to wince. He hoped his teeth would grow back quickly. "She was all right, just a little nosy."

Yo nodded and glanced at Fanboy's cast. "What'd she ask you?"

A little flicker of anxiety and panic spread across Fanboy's face. Yo looked at him curiously. "What did she ask you?" Fanboy stared at his food. "Nothing…"

"What?"

"...It was nothing important…to you anyway. I thought you hated me."

Yo shrugged and took a bite of her own food and lazily scanned the cafeteria until her eyes met Blake's. She almost choked on her own food as is eyes glared daggers at her. She saw that he had a bandage on his nose, where Fanboy had broken it. She dropped her fork as Blake got up from his sea and made his way towards the two.

Fanboy saw it coming too, apparently, and his face began to lose its color. He looked at Yo with a pleading gaze in his eyes and she saw the horror that had been implanted in his mind from this person. Blake smiled a terrible smile and placed his hands on the table, staring right at the younger male, and his eyes bored into the emerald ones.

"So." he grinned. "Are you women enjoying your lunch?"

"Please, Fanboy," Yo prayed, "don't say anything that would make him want to try to kill you again. Just ignore him."

To her surprise, Fanboy just laughed hysterically and continued to eat. Blake was a bit surprised by Fanboy's reaction, but that just made him press forward. "I heard you went to see your therapist today."

Fanboy just chewed. "Just ignore him Just ignore him. Just ignore him. Just ignore him Just ignore him. Just ignore him. Just ignore him Just ignore him. Just ignore him. Just ignore him Just ignore him. Just ignore him. Just ignore him!" Yo thought frantically.

"Is she good to you?"

…Another nod.

"You know that she's going to make money off of you, asking questions and all that."

Fanboy didn't even blink. "It IS her job. She _has_ to get paid."

"She doesn't really care about you, you know," Blake said.

Fanboy had no reply for this and he opened his mouth to say something but then he shut it again.

"You do realize that, right?"

"Well," Fanboy exclaimed rather annoyed, "you must care a lot if you're asking me all this. You must really care about how I feel."

Yo watched with her eyes as wide as saucers. Blake was getting frustrated and it was evident. A lot of kids were watching the two converse, but couldn't hear what they were saying. The suspense was palpable. Everyone felt it and Fanboy knew it.

Blake's eyes almost popped out of his skull when Fanboy cupped his gloved hands around his mouth like a megaphone and shouted to the onlookers, "HE'S JUST APOLOGIZING!"

About two-thirds of the cafeteria cracked up, and pointed at Blake, who just stood there with a shocked expression on his face. He then began to laugh along with it, as if it were all a big joke. His lip began to curl as he stared down at Fanboy, who stared right back with equivalent intent. Yo giggled behind her hand and Fanboy smiled at her. Blake leaned down to the younger male's face with the same cruel smile on his complexion. "I will make you suffer. You hear me? I will make you suffer!"

Fanboy just sighed. "There's nothing you can do that can make me hurt anymore than I already am."

…

"All right, everyone settle down! Welcome to our ice breaker circle today!" Some of the patients, including Fanboy, Yo, Marsha, and unfortunately Blake, were seated in a circle on the cafeteria floor. Beatrice sat in between a blond girl and a slumped male. Fanboy sat opposite of Beatrice and Yo sat beside him, and Marsha sat beside her. Blake sat about five patients away from Fanboy, so they had a clear view of each other.

Yo shifted uncomfortably as Beatrice shuffled through a few papers, mumbling to herself. As she did this, everyone sat around awkwardly, playing with their hands, gazing around at each other. Some chatted quietly to those around them, but most of the patients just stared off into space, including Fanboy, who just stared at his shoelaces.

It seemed liked hours before Beatrice finally tossed the clipboard over her shoulders and clapped her hands loudly, causing everyone one to jump. "Hello everyone, I am Beatrice and I'm your icebreaker instructor. We're going to ask each other questions and go around the circle answering them, just to try to get to know each other better. So we're going to start with Annabelle. Annabelle, what is your favorite food?"

She was talking to the blonde girl seated next to her. Annabelle kind of had this blank look on her face, as if she was pondering over the question, as if it were a dangerous one. "I like strawberries." She quickly looked at her hands after answering. A couple of kids nodded in approval.

"Anthony, how about you?"

"I find bacon enjoyable."

Fanboy felt relief flood through him. His turn wasn't for a while. He let his gaze drift to several of the other patients who looked nervous: the tall slumped male who was sitting next to Beatrice. Luckily, his turn was last. He saw a little fourteen year-old girl with glasses writing something on her hand with a pen. He shifted his gaze just a bit more and caught Blake's. He quickly averted his eyes.

"Fanboy? FANBOY?"

Fanboy jerked out of his daydream in surprise, causing Blake to laugh, along with a few nearest him. "U-Um, my favorite food is… Um…"

He heard Blake scoff.

Fanboy saw Beatrice open her mouth to confront Blake, but Fanboy beat her to it. "It's not that I don't know, Blake. I just like a variety of foods. It's hard to pick just one." He practically spat out Blake's name and averted his gaze to the floor. Some of the kids gave ambitious giggles in amusement at Fanboy's plug.

Beatrice quickly moved on to the next person before any fights would begin. Yo.

"Yo, what is your favorite food?"

Yo smiled and straightened up a bit, in confidence what her answer would be. "Sushi!" She announced.

Blake laughed. "Of course," he scoffed, and Yo's smile didn't waver, but a small pink blush rose from her cheeks. Fanboy gave Blake a glare.

Beatrice frowned and rubbed her forehead. "Let us be courteous of others around us," she proclaimed, "because we all wanted to be treated kindly. Now, Blake, since you are very talkative, why don't you tell us what your favorite meal is?"

"My favorite is hamburger," Blake grinned and leaned back a bit, "gripe."

"Of course," Fanboy exclaimed in a whiny imitation of Blake's voice. Everyone laughed outright at this, and for the first time, Fanboy felt rather good when being mean. He laughed along with them.

"Children, that's enough!" Beatrice said rather firmly, and she snapped her fingers, which somehow gained everyone's attention. Everyone stopped laughing abruptly and stared down at their laps to avoid the woman's glare. "I expect a lot better from you. Most of you are way too old to be acting like first graders and I want respect from every one of you—I want everyone here to show respect to others around them, so nobody will talk until they are called upon to speak. Understood?"

A few patients nodded slightly and a couple of kids muttered, "Yeah."

"Good. All right, Cynthia, it's your turn. What is your favorite food?"

"What he said," the African-American girl chortled, pointing to Fanboy. He blinked at her, surprised. "I really don't have a favorite food."

Beatrice smiled and nodded. "That goes for me too." She looked at the last patient, the tall, slumped male that sat on her left. For a second, he just stared blankly at the floor, but then lifted his head to meet Fanboy's gaze. "What he said," the teen mumbled, nodding towards the younger male. Blake sniffed deeply in disgust.

"Question two! What is your dream career? Annabelle, let us start with you again."

This time, the girl smiled shyly. "I want to train monkeys." When everyone shared confused glances, she added, "For the circus. I really love animals, so yeah."

The slouched boy next to Beatrice laughed. "Yeah right, Annabelle! You won't train monkeys!"

Beatrice gave the teenager a look. "Now that's not true. I believe Annabelle can be anything she puts her mind to, if she sets her future straight," Beatrice smiled at the girl. "She follows her dreams."

When they got to Fanboy, he said he wanted to be a super hero, but he wasn't good enough.

Blake said it was obvious and Fanboy told him to shut-up. Beatrice broke up the fight before it escalated.

…

9:00 PM

Fanboy yawned and rubbed the back of his neck. One of the employees had required the patients to wear hospital gowns for pajamas, and Fanboy was the one who wasn't cooperative. At first, he just downright refused to hand over his costume, while everyone else took his or her set of clothing quietly. Then he simply tried walking away. Then they had to hold him down, to force him. In the end, they won, and Fanboy was exhausted.

He stumbled over to his bed, and jerked the covers aside and curled up underneath them. Quiet was what he wanted, and quiet was what he got. He only heard the slight buzzing of the fluorescent bulbs above him. He held the blankets to his chest, avoiding his broken arm and wondered. What…what was everyone back at home doing? Did they miss him? Were they glad he was gone? He really had no idea. He sniffed.

"Honey?"

Fanboy rose immediately, emerging from the covers and stared at the woman who had so quietly entered the room. She smiled softly and walked over to his side, and he scooted to the opposite side of the bed. "Hey…" she whispered, bringing a warm hand to the side of his face.

"How are you feeling?"

Fanboy flinched at the odd contact and made an attempt to move away from Beatrice. He stared up into her brown eyes and preferring to lift up his voice declared, "Confused." She let out a little laugh and tousled his hair gently. He wrapped his arms around his knees and looked up at her with a hurt gaze.

"Don't worry," she smiled. "Many patients feel the same way. Fanboy, we have quite an array of," –Fanboy glanced at her in confusion.— "Quite a mixture of different people with different needs. Blake is at that age where he rebels, and he wants to fight everyone around him. So, I need you to give him some space."

Fanboy spoke then, with a haughty tone of voice, "Me? Give him space? W-Why, _he's_ the one who's been picking on me! I think you've got it a little backwards. Look!" He shoved his broken arm in her lie of sight. "He beat me up and twisted my arm until it broke!"

"Why do you think he did that?" Beatrice asked gently. "Don't you think that he may be hurting just as much as you?'

Fanboy thought for a moment. "…He doesn't like me."

"I can't imagine. Why not?

Fanboy brought his knees up to face. It hurt his torso, but he felt protected. "…Because I'm stupid," He choked out. There was a lump in his throat. It hurt his heart beyond belief to say that but he needed to speak the truth. "Because I'm a loser, and it's really easy to hurt me. Because I'm crazy."

Tears began to build up in his eyes and he blinked. His heart clenched as he thought about Chum Chum. "B-Because I have an imaginary friend…because…because" He couldn't finish his sentence. He clamped a hand over his mouth, for a small sob had escaped. He closed his eyes and little whimpers began to build up inside. Oh no…

Fanboy shoved his face into his pillow and let it out. His body shook and his shoulders heaved with every sob that escaped him. The pillow was becoming damp with his tears and saliva, but he could have cared less. The next thing he felt were two arms wrapping around his waist. They gently lifted him up, and he felt the pillow being taken away.

He continued to cry, but returned the hug to Beatrice, who had him in her grasp. She laid his head on her chest, and rested her cheek on the top of his flat head. Fanboy gripped the hem of her shirt and hugged her tighter. "It's okay," she whispered. "It's all right."

"N-No!' he cried. "It's not!"

"Fanboy, listen to me," She lifted his chin up so their eyes could meet. "You are very special. It doesn't matter what other people think of you as long as you are a kind, sweet, caring person to others around you, and yourself. Be happy with who you are! Don't let bullies get the better of you, because that is exactly what they want. They want to see you break down and cry and be completely miserable! Don't give them the satisfaction! Be happy with who you are!"

"You mean I should be happy that I'm a deranged psychopath?" Fanboy looked up at her through wet, bloodshot eyes. "No thank you," he mumbled. "I'd rather be somebody else, anybody else who is better off than I, and there are so many people who are."

Beatrice shook her head in contradiction. "I'm saying that you should build yourself up to be a better person. You should start by liking who you are! Wasn't there a time when you were happy?"

Fanboy nodded and sniffed. "Yeah."

"Can you tell me when that was?"

"When Chum Chum was alive," He answered, and broke away from her embrace.

Beatrice smiled sadly at him. "Losing your loved ones is a difficult thing," She whispered, caressing his tear stained cheek gently, "I lost a loved one."

Fanboy gazed at the woman. "Oh," he murmured, gripping the bed sheets once again. "I'm so sorry. I-I had no idea."

"It's alright. But I don't think I've ever moved on… I-I just can't forget!"

Fanboy sighed unhappily. "I know what you mean."

Beatrice wiped her eyes. "I-I couldn't take care of him," she said. Fanboy noticed her voice was shaking. The woman bit her lip and covered her mouth with her hand.

Fanboy watched in shock as Beatrice began to cry quietly. He scooted a bit closer to her. "I-I'm really, really, really sorry." Oh he had done it now. He had made an adult cry. H-He hadn't meant for it to happen. It wasn't impudence! I-It wasn't impudence!

Beatrice smiled at him. "Why are you apologizing?"

He almost looked surprised. "F-For making you cry," he mumbled and curled up into a little ball, his head resting on her lap. She looked down in surprise and tried to read his expression, trying to guess what he was thinking, but his eyes were closed and his face was impassive as a stone wall, and he did not intend giving any of his thoughts away. She moved a hand to his cheek and caressed it soothingly. They stayed there quietly, unmoving for who knows how long, until all Beatrice could hear was Fanboy's soft breathing.

"Sweetie?"

Fanboy made no movement, and she realized that he had fallen asleep. She gently lifted his limp body and scooted him under the covers of his bed, eyeing his bruises and other injuries.

"Oh, you've had it so rough," she whispered to the sleeping child, "I'm not going to let anyone hurt you anymore, understand? Nobody should do that to you. You have to believe that. You have to believe that you are every bit as special as everyone else." Beatrice…Beatrice was actually moved by him. The twenty-eight year-old brushed her long bangs aside and moved away from the bed. She shuffled over to the door and looked back one last time. She smiled and turned off the lights. "Sweet dreams."

She considered that his therapy session.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13**

Fanboy shuffled around the playground, trying to locate Marsha and Yo, and avoiding Blake while doing so. He scuffed his shoes in the bark, gazing over at the everlasting city that surrounded the playground at all angles, which surrounded the barbed wire fence to keep him in along with the rest of the patients.

Loud shrieks of laughter and chatter was all he heard, all he could see were children and teens playing together, looking like they were having so much fun, and what was he doing; sitting by his self in a corner?

Ugh, this was FANBOY! The energetic ball of annoyance that had always sped around town with never-ending enthusiasm for life! HE should be playing with them! He should be laughing along and among the other children. What was he doing? He was by himself, shy; quiet, remaining in solitude in a corner. He wanted to play with Chum Chum, and he was the only one that Fanboy wanted to play with! He didn't really want to waste his time around people who never really liked him, and he didn't want to be by himself. If only he and Chum Chum were the only people in the world.

He backed up against the brick building, engulfed in shadows. He felt incredibly lonely, and somewhat afraid. Scared of what? He was scared of approaching someone to be his or her friend. He didn't really know whether the person would be compassionate or like…Blake.

But that should not stop him! So how come he was so afraid? Ugh, if it weren't for that jerk, he wouldn't have been so reserved. He watched some kids in front of him playing handball, and felt a sudden urge to join in. Yet… He glanced down at him broken arm and sighed. Maybe that wouldn't be a good idea. He shivered, and tugged at his cape with one arm, wrapping it around his body. A shadow…

…Hmm?

"Hiya."

Oh, it was that Annabelle girl; the one who had sat next to Beatrice during question time. Well…she looked harmless enough, Fanboy decided. She was probably about thirteen.

"Hello," he said back, watching her shyly. She looked at the ground and flipped her blonde hair to the side. She was wearing a baby pink shirt with sparkly butterflies, with faded jeans, completed with yellow sneakers. That was about it. A defining attribute to her appearance was the fleeting look in her eyes, and her constant twitch.

"Um…how are you?" He asked slowly. He knew that she was in this hospital for a reason. And though she looked harmless, well—you never know. Now that he was at this place, the feeling of distrust overtook him.

She nodded. "I'm okay," she whispered, twirling a strand of golden hair around her finger. "Yourself?"

Fanboy tried to smile, but it ended up looking like a smirk. "I'm alright. I-I'm just a little bored."

"That makes the two of us."

Ten more seconds of awkward silence. Fanboy almost told the girl to go away and leave him alone, but then she smiled. He blinked in surprise. The only people who had smiled at him at this place were Yo and Elliot…and Beatrice. It wasn't a sarcastic smile, like the ones Blake had given him, they weren't cold and unreal like his former friends had forced onto their faces. But…it wasn't exactly a "welcome to the neighborhood" smile either. Nothing seemed very comparable now.

The girl slowly walked over to the hunched up male and sat beside him. "I'm Annabelle," she said, holding out her twitching hand for him to shake. He immediately put his gloved hand in hers.

"Fanboy," he muttered in reply, "nice t' meet ya."

She stared down at her lap and said, "I like how you stood up to Blake when he was being mean to you—it was very brave of you."

Fanboy chuckled in embarrassment at the fact that a girl had ever noticed him—especially at a mental hospital. "More like stupidity, because he almost murdered me." He shifted his body up to a sitting position.

Annabelle looked at Fanboy then. "Is it true?" She asked him. "Is it true that you were the one who tried to kill that Asian girl?" Fanboy's jaw went slack and he just stared at her. "The one who tried to escape this place?" the girl continued. "…The one thrown into a mental asylum? Are you the one who talks to himself? Who thinks he has an imaginary friend?"

Fanboy stuttered for a few moments, but finally whispered, "Where did you hear that?"

The girl shrugged. "Oh, I heard it from Elliot."

…Elliot?

"Elliot told you that?" Fanboy asked in a hushed whisper.

"So it's true then?" the girl concluded. She moved a bit closer to him until their bodies were touching.

He stared at her, then out to the kids who were now nowhere in sight. Her speaking brought his attention back. "Isn't it true?" She backed him further into the corner. He noticed something about her abrupt behavior altering. Perhaps it was nothing, but she seemed to get excited at the mention of blood. And he had shed a lot of blood.

Fanboy began to panic as she placed on hand on his chest. "W-What are you?"—She pressed a finger against his lips, shushing him. He stared up at her, his heart nearly thumping out of his chest.

"It's alright," she said, her voice no longer in a meek, innocent tone. She smiled, but it wasn't a very guiltless smile. "I like you. I think you're pretty cute; even if you are easy to beat up, because you obviously were strong enough to beat someone else up. I'm glad you put it on Blake. He can be a jerk sometimes."

"O-Oh," Fanboy muttered, feeling very uncomfortable when she sat on his lap, spreading her legs apart to wrap around his waist. "W-Well, that's nice of you to say—I think. I-h-ha! W-_What are you doing?_" He stuttered, when the girl leaned oh-so close to him, their noses touching. He struggled underneath her weight, and with a broken arm, it wasn't an easy task.

She giggled and cupped his cheeks with her palms, causing him to blush in embarrassment. "That's how I like them," she whispered, moving ever closer, "I like them crazy and bloodthirsty." Fanboy stared at her, as the situation's purpose began to dawn on him. Crazy. She was crazy.

"Wait! No! I'm not like that! I'm not bloodthirsty! A-And I don't like you that way either!" He declared rather firmly.

"I know. You don't have to. Don't be embarrassed. We're all here for something."

Fanboy just stared at her. "T-Then why are you—?" She put another finger to his lips. "Hush…" She hushed, "It's only human nature—well, my nature anyway."

That did it. Fanboy shoved her body off of his and frantically began to hobble away.

"Y-Yo! Marsha!" He called out. "Where are you?" While turning around the corner, he finally bumped into someone he knew—Elliot.

The older male grinned. "Hey, little dude! Where've you been?" He laughed, gently tousling Fanboy's hair. Fanboy smacked his hand away in anger and stormed up in Elliot's surprised face.

"Why did you tell everyone about me?" He growled, jabbing a finger in the older male's bewildered face. "Why did you tell everyone that I'm a bloodthirsty psychopath? WHY?"

Elliot held his hands out in front of the enraged preteen and started to back away. "Whoa! Slow down there, Buddy? What are you talking about? I didn't tell anybody about you!"

"Yeah?" Fanboy yelled, drawing the attention of several patients, who watched in interest. "Then how does Annabelle know that?" He questioned, cocking his head to the side. "How?"

"Is Annabelle the one with the blond hair?"

"Yes," Fanboy answered, crossing his arms. "She sat on my lap and said that she liked bloodthirsty people," he spat, making a face. "Then she told me that YOU were the one who told HER!"

He stared deep into Elliot's eyes, and Elliot sighed, and adjusted his glasses. Other patients watched, waiting. Finally, Elliot replied, "Lad, she's a gossiper."

Fanboy stiffened. "What?"

"Yeah, she's a bit..." He shuddered. "She may seem sweet, but watch out, she can be a snake. She's one of Blake's best friends, you know." Elliot explained. Fanboy closed his eyes and slowly uncurled his fists. "T-Then who told her?"

Elliot shrugged. "Maybe your friend Yo told her." He cleared his throat while Fanboy's expression went ballistic. "Hey! It's a _maybe_! I have no idea who told Annabelle, okay? And I can assure you that it wasn't me! I really hate gossiping and rumors, for they rarely are the truth. It's like playing a game of Telephone: you never know what the truth is until the source announces it-and that would be you!"

"Elliot…" Fanboy closed his eyes as tears began to gather at the corners of his eyes, "I'm sorry…" He shook his head and felt a hand squeeze his shoulder.

"It's all right, little lad. I understand you being angry. I'd be upset if somebody spread a rumor about me—true or untrue. I can tell you right now that a real friend is someone who would never do that, and I'm your friend, Fanboy." Elliot smiled.

Fanboy smiled back. "Thank you. That means a lot to me. I-I just don't understand—why would you want me as a friend?"

Elliot smiled. "I've been around you many times outside this place!" He grinned. He lifted a hand up in the air and laughed. "You don't recall seeing me, do you?"

Fanboy shook his head slowly.

"Well, I bought your friend's pickle jar for a dollar!"

Fanboy's mouth dropped open, "F-Fedora Man?" He gasped, "W-What are you—?"

Fedora Man laughed loudly, throwing his head back in amusement. "Being an advertiser is great and all, but I've seen those horrible things that have happened to you. I know that I barely knew you, but I didn't see anyone try to help, so I figured I'd get a little job here! So here I am!"

"Wow," Fanboy's voice slightly trembled, "I can't believe you'd do that for me."

He glanced behind his shoulder to see Annabelle whispering to her best friend—Blake. The teenager didn't seem to like what she said, and he stood up, and started walking over to Fanboy.

Elliot sensed the danger as well, so he gave Fanboy a gentle push towards the entrance of the building. The child complied immediately, and started fast walking towards the double-doors, checking over his shoulders now and then to see if Blake was still following him.

Surprisingly enough, Blake stopped in front of Elliot and began yelling and jabbing a finger in the man's face. Fanboy closed the doors behind him and peeked through the peephole in the door. He couldn't exactly hear what Blake or Elliot was saying, but he could see that Blake was clearly angry.

He began to run down the hallways, and finally entered his room, slamming the door behind him. He sprinted to his bed and curled up under the covers. He did not emerge until late that night, when he was sure he was safe.

...

"Lance? Honey, are you in here?"

Fanboy looked up, from the window and froze. Beatrice. Great, she most likely had heard about what had happened in the playground. But, he couldn't be in trouble, could he? No, he hadn't done a thing, so he couldn't be punished.

Nevertheless, he felt anxiety shooting up his spine as she stared at him. "Y-Yeah, I'm here." He glanced down at his hands and chewed his bottom lip. "What is it?"

Beatrice said nothing at first, and simply walked over to where he was, and put her delicate hands on his shoulders. He tensed his body at the contact and avoided her gaze. "Lance," she murmured, moving in front of his gaze. "Are you getting along with the other patients?"

It felt like she was accusing him of fighting. He nodded his head rather fast pace. "Yes, but they—"

"I don't want to hear what they did, Lance. I want to hear what you did." She gripped his shoulders.

"But," Fanboy whispered, trying to shift his body away from her grip. Suddenly, he felt fear, "I didn't do anything. I was j-just sitting there, and Annabelle came over, and she introduced herself and then she said she liked crazy boys for some reason and then I ran away." He said this all in one rush, and it took a few moments for Beatrice to process his words. When it came to her, she sighed and pulled away from him. Fanboy shuffled nervously.

"Lance…" she wasn't perfect, she knew that, and usually it took a lot to push her over the edge, but not when her patience was at its peak. Like right now. "I told you that you need to give Blake and his friends some space and then they won't bother you."

"I did!" Fanboy cried. "I stayed all by myself behind the building, and I thought nobody would find me, but they did! I tried! I really did! I promise!"

"Listen to me, you need to—ugh…look, I don't want you to be by yourself. Not to avoid them. Why don't you play with that little girl—what was her name, Yo?"

Fanboy shook his head slowly. "Yeah, that's her," he mumbled, "but she doesn't like me either."

"Oh stop saying that people don't like you! You don't know that!" Beatrice cried out in exasperation. Fanboy nodded his head and stamped over to the bed.

"I _do_ know!" he insisted. He stared down at the covers and sighed, as Beatrice stood speechless. "As you can see, I'm not a likable person. Why don't you go somewhere else? I'm not worth your time, because I don't have a chance. I don't want a friend like her anyway!" he snarled, curling up under the covers. "I hate her! I don't want to talk to her ever again!" His face began to grow hot from fury and something else triggered in his mind.

"I don't want to have any more friends! All they do is leave or die or just hate my guts! I would rather not have any friends and not even think about them, because I would have nothing to lose!"

He didn't feel Beatrice sit down next to him. He could only feel the rage building up inside of him. "What about Elliot?" she asked him, feeling that maybe that would soothe him. It did just the opposite.

"Elliot? ELLIOT?! You know what he told me today? He only became my friend because he felt sorry for me! I don't want a friend who was only friends with me to begin with because he felt SORRY for me!" Fanboy was nearing hysteria and Beatrice sensed it.

"Didn't you once tell me that Chum Chum wasn't real?" Beatrice asked, trying to lightly change the subject.

Fanboy threw the coves off of his face and stared directly into her eyes. "Yes," he said in a passionate and almost scary way. "He was never real. How did he end up being the nicest to me?"

"Wouldn't you rather have a friend that's real?"

Fanboy didn't hesitate. "No, and I don't care what people think. If being happy means being a crazy idiot talking to the walls and air, I will do that. I'd rather be crazy and happy than normal and…alone. Because it's MY world! Nobody should have a say in it! I'd rather interact with the stupid air than to talk to an actual person, because every actual person I've ever met hates my GUTS!" He yelled.

He wrapped his arms around his thin legs and began to laugh and cry and the same time, completely hysterical. "It'd be my world!" he cried, moving one of his hands to grip his hair. Beatrice watched in horror. "It'd be my own world, and I could play with m-my best friend, and I'd never ever, ever, ever die and he's never dying, and no one ever bother us in our house, because if they did, I'd break their stinking NECKS!" He began to rock back and forth, his whole body shaking. "I'd KILL them! Then they would never hurt me or Chum Chum ever again!" Lunacy clouded his mind and Beatrice backed away from him slowly. It didn't even sound like him. His voice actually. It sounded more raspy and somewhat airy.

"Lance," she whispered, "you don't have to be like this. I know deep down, you're not like this."

Fanboy jerked his head up to look at her with a wild, crazy look in his eyes. "Are you kidding?" He laughed, throwing his head back. "This _is_ me underneath! All this time people thought I was KIND?" He laughed again, louder and louder.

"I'm not worth anyone's time and I don't want anybody to be involved in my life except for Chum Chum! I want it to be only him and me! If that means I have to DIE, I'll do it! It's easy!" He nearly doubled over in laughter, and Beatrice's eyes nearly doubled in size.

"I'll DIE, and then the world will be GONE! Nobody will have to care or worry about me again! Everyone will forget about ME! Don't think that they won't, because who in their right mind would ever love and remember a deranged, brainless, PSYCHOPATH?" He laughs grew louder yet, until they were screams.

"Why would anybody love me?" He screamed in agony, "I'm a disgusting human being! -WAIT, NO! Calling me a human being is too kind, isn't it?" He screams were now to nobody, for nobody, he thought, would care. "I thought if I was a superhero, people would like me! People would accept me! That's what I wanted to be! Nobody I have ever known has ever loved me, or given an ounce of their energy to think about how I feel!" His chest heaved and he began to see stars, but he continued to rant. "IF NOBODY CARES ABOUT HOW I FEEL, THEN I'M NOBODY! I WANT TO DIE!"

Here, Beatrice approached him with a hand behind her back that had a knockout syringe in it. He barely saw her coming, not with the amount of tears pouring out of his eyes. "I WANT TO DIE! I WANT TO DIE! I WANT TO DIE!" Beatrice gripped one of his shoulders roughly and jammed the needle into his bloodstream. He passed out within minutes, still chanting, "I want to die…" in his sleep.

Beatrice hovered over his crumpled body, trembling. She fled from the room, locking the door behind her, and sped to her office where she sat crying at her desk.

He was so broken. He was beyond repair. She didn't know if he really did have a chance.

A few hours later, somebody knocked at her door. "Come in," she muttered, wiping her bloodshot eyes. It was another young woman who entered, carrying a small stack of official-looking papers. "Beatrice," the woman said, "I-I found some very interesting things involving that boy you are taking care of."

Beatrice mustered up a small smile. "You mean Lance?" She honestly didn't want to converse about that child, especially not after what had happened with him going berserk. She had felt such a pain, such a deep one, but she didn't know why. She had never felt this attached to a patient before. Was it because he was so mentally challenged? Was it because he had a resemblance of appearance to her? The big, wide eyes…the slim figure…the flattened head… She shook slightly, and the younger woman, known as Felicity, moved her head to one side in confusion, and squint her eyes.

"You might want to look at these papers Beatrice. The staff explored and studied the boy's records, and they tried to get as much information out of him as possible when you were on break. They tried to figure out where he came from, and…I think you should examine these, Beatrice," Felicity smiled, handing papers to the woman, who hesitantly took them from her.

"Thank you," Beatrice said, "I'll take a look at them."

The blonde nodded with a smile, "Don't mention it," she said, and exited the room. Beatrice carefully set them on the far side of her desk and leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes. She rested a weary hand over her heart and tried to restore a feeling of calm in her mind. She didn't want to hear of him at the moment. She really didn't. This was her job though. She groaned and grabbed the papers. The parchments were very simple, very straightforward, Beatrice realized. This is what the first page said.

**Profile of Patient Number 577767**

**Name: Lance (Middle and Last name unknown)**

**Sex: Male**

**Age: 11 **

**Date of Birth: October 13, 1998**

**Race: Caucasian**

**Height: 5****'11**

**Origin: (Unknown)**

**Guardians: (Unknown)**

**School: Galaxy Hills Elementary**

**Grade: 5th**

**Teacher: Hank Mufflin**

**City: Galaxy Hills**

**County: Universe Plains**

**State: California **

**Zip Code: 92861**

**Diagnosis: schizophrenia and depression **

Then next few pages were about where he had grown up, who his friends had been, how he had survived alone. Beatrice read them carefully, for in her hands, this was somebody's life story. She would never skim through something like this as if it were nothing. She realized, while reading them, that most of the important things he had done in his life, he had done with Chum Chum. It must have been hard for him to choke up these facts trying to imagine them without the presence of his best friend. She couldn't imagine the pain he must have felt when he had found out that the person he had cared for most had never existed.

The next page caught her attention well. Gripping the papers tightly, she read about the blood tests that she and all the other employees had taken at the beginning of the year, way before Lance had come.

As it turned out, they had done the same thing with the patients, and the specialists had used Fanboy's blood to try to match his DNA to his mother and father's. How could they possibly do that? Fanboy had said that he knew nothing about his parents. Had the specialists managed to shake the details out of him?

If he did tell them, why didn't he tell her? Was it because he was used to her? Maybe he truly didn't know. Perhaps he was simply being defiant. Children nowadays, Beatrice recalled, were very stubborn. At least, they could be stubborn if they tended to be in pressured, like clay.

Beatrice read the details faster and faster, growing more interested. The next page listed the numbers of the DNA that belonged to Fanboy and a few other people, including hers.

"Why mine?" Beatrice asked herself. She had no relation to this boy, at least, that's what she thought. Then she sucked in her breath, her heart stopped, and her eyes doubled in size.

Fanboy's DNA numbers matched hers.

"…"

"..."

HUUUUUH?

It was like punch in the gut, and Beatrice stopped short of her breathing. She just stared at the tiny numbers, not very sure if they were correct, not sure if she was dreaming. She began to feel lightheaded as she found out what this meant. "He's my son?" That broken, psychotic, hallucinating child was hers? No. No, there must be some sort of mistake. She stared at the results again.

Oh, well maybe there wasn't.

"..."

She gently set the papers down at stared straight ahead for a while as memories flashed before her eyes.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

_"Get in there, now.__" A deep-throated growl emitted directly behind the teenager, and she tensed in fear. A sharp jab from the side and soon she was immobilized. She could feel his warm breathe on her ear, causing the hair on the back of her neck to rise._

_"Where...Where do you want me to go?__" she asked. She was surprised that on the outside her voice was so calm and collected when on the inside, she was a nervous wreck. Her heart beat faster than it ever had in her life and dread consumed her mind. She didn__'t dare look behind her to see who this person was. She could not risk getting killed._

_"To the alleyway right ahead. Keep quiet and I won__'t kill you,__" the man snarled, and yes, Beatrice could see now that he had a weapon, for it was pressed against the jugular of her neck. One slice into the skin and she would die on the spot. She complied immediately, and slowly made her way to the dark entrance that would probably be her final destination. How did she end up here? Ah yes, she was at the movies and decided to detour around town, very stupidly, after the streetlights went on. She could practically see the man grin at her obedience, and she felt his lanky arm snake around her waist and lead her deeper into what now seemed to be a trench. Rainwater trickled down the sides of windowless brick buildings, dripping off pipes and gutters. It smelled musty and damp within the alleyway, and she sneezed._

_"__Quiet!__" the man barked, and he gripped her hair, causing her to wince in pain. Within a few seconds, he had managed to shove her to the ground and pin her down with his arms and legs. She struggled, but no screams came from her throat. To her surprise, the man took off his jacket and tossed it aside. __"Please, sir, let me go!__" She whimpered._

_The man threw back his head and released a malevolent cackle. __"No way!__" he snickered, voice slightly deepening, __"I didn__'t get you for nothing!__" Squinting, Beatrice managed to capture a few of the man__'s defining features. High cheekbones, golden brown hair, buckteeth, but what struck her most were the brilliant emerald irises that stared into her own. His knees dug into her sides and she began to cry again, causing him to slap her. __"__Shut up!__" he growled, and then muttering under his breath, rummaged through his coat pocket. He withdrew a long, clean, sharp carving knife with his callused, spidery fingers._

_Beatrice__'s eyes widened in shock and she desperately tried to squirm away. Her heart was thumping like crazy from fear. __"Now,__" he began in a long, and slightly seductive purr, gripping the handle of the knife rather tightly, __"__I don__'t think we have much use for these anymore.__" He placed the knife__'s tip against the hem of her long-sleeved shirt and cut away the fabric in one long slice. _

Beatrice jolted from shock from the memory. That was he. Not Fanboy... but... The father of... Oh God...

_The girl finally began to cry as the unknown man violated her, and she did nothing to defend herself. She didn__'t want to risk it, not when he had a weapon. Not when her life was on the line. If she were to die at anytime, it would be by her own hand! She wasn__'t sure if she had passed out, but the next thing Beatrice knew, she was in a hospital bed with her family surrounding her._

A few tears dripped onto the mahogany desktop, the memories were far too graphic. That horrible person had taken away what was very precious to her. Her parents, oh, she remembered their shocked expressions, every little detail. And when she found out that she was pregnant a few months later, it was more than they could handle. She ran away, rather than face punishment for something that wasn't her fault.

_Months later, the girl was running into Utah, one hand clutching her overgrown stomach that contained her unborn child, the other carrying a backpack containing the only things she owned. It was happening. She ran past building after abandoned crumbling building until her legs gave way after the contractions began. She fell on her side, still clutching her stomach. She was so weak from the lack of food, and she knew that her unborn baby was too. Another sharp pain in her stomach caused her to wince and curl up. She was going to give birth. The next few hours were a nightmare for her, and nobody was around to help deliver. She remembered the pain, her own screams, and more pain until the baby finally came out, along with nearly half her blood. She instantly took it up in her arms and inspected its little crying face. It was a boy. His baby...__That wretched man__'s! No... Hers. Yes, __hers. __She cuddled the quivering little form, it__'s face resting against the crook of her neck when a light drizzle began._

_A few days later, the eighteen-year-old girl wrapped her arms around the very small bundle of human life, trying to sooth its whimpers. Her legs were beginning to ache from being bunched up. Where had her dignity gone? How did she end up here? On the side of a road in the middle of a mountain valley, shivering in the rain, holding a baby that she didn__'__t even feel was hers. _

_Cars rushed past her, splattering the girl with rainwater, despite her desperate attempts to get them to stop and please give her a ride. She needed to get to the West coast, where it was warmer, where she could hopefully find a job, perhaps rent an apartment, and provide a better life for her son. _

_This was hopeless. She cuddled the baby tighter to her chest and shivered as rainwater trickled down her face. She brushed a clump of her tangled hair out of her eyes and squinted to try to see past the droplets. The red-faced infant started to whine, and she wrapped the dirty blanket tighter around his quivering little form. __"I know,__" she whispered to him, tears starting to cloud her already blurred vision. __"I__'m cold too. I__'m so sorry.__" _

_Yet another car passed them, Beatrice began to feel defeat. __"Please!__" she cried out. __"Someone please help me!__" She began to cry in great big noisy sobs. The baby stopped his own crying and looked up at her in curiosity with his shimmering emerald eyes, and she looked back with own bloodshot ones. She smiled sorrowfully at him and smoothed back his golden-brown hair that was also drenched with water. _

_A car__'s beeping horn interrupted her thoughts and she jerked her head back into reality. She almost cried for joy. Someone was stopping. A rather fancy orange vehicle, a convertible, stopped a few feet in front of her. Beatrice smiled and limped over to the driver__'s window, which was now rolled down. She peered in. A rather muscular teenager smiled at her. _

_"Where are you heading?__" he asked with a thick New York accent. She cocked her head to the side. He looked about sixteen or seventeen, had blonde hair that was obviously dyed, because the roots were brown. She placed a hand on the windowsill, the same way Fanboy would years later, but she was unaware of that. It caused the guy to gasp, __"Whoa! Hey, hey, HEY! Keep your hands off Sandy!__" Beatrice jerked her hands away in surprise. __"I just had the paint redone!__" He explained. __"Anyway, you need a lift?__"_

_"Y-yes please!__" she shivered, her teeth chattering from the cold. __"I need to get to the West coast, or at least somewhere around there. Do you think you could__…"_

_The young teenager smiled. He couldn't have been older than fifteen. __"Get in! That__'s where I__'m heading!__" Beatrice exhaled, relieved. __"Oh thank you so much! Mr. __…Um__…"_

_"Boogregard Dolomite Shlizetti, but you can call me Boog!__" he introduced, and held out a hand to her. She gripped it tightly, feeling the warmth travel through his hand to hers. __"Beatrice. Beatrice Corporal.__" She couldn__'t believe her luck as he helped her into the car, and soon she was seated in the back, for he didn__'t want her wet clothes to soil the seats. She didn__'t mind, for now she was on her way, safe, warm, and now dry._

_Beatrice unraveled the drenched blanket from around the little baby and let him lie on her lap. She couldn__'t afford clothes for him, so the blanket was the only thing keeping him warm on the rough, cold journeys. The baby nuzzled his head against Beatrice__'s empty stomach and gurgled happily, looking up at her with his bright emerald eyes and smiling with love. Beatrice__'s heart swelled with affection for her child. It was like that. Sometimes, when things were hard, she couldn__'t stand the thing. She had no idea who its father was, and sometimes she would have rather given him up than give birth. But that was the sole purpose for running away: to keep him. Her parents were horrified when she found out she was pregnant, but they couldn__'t exactly blame her for getting pregnant in the first place. Being raped left her scarred._

_He tried rolling off her lap onto the floor, but she kept a safe grip on him. He was very active, Beatrice had noticed. And he didn__'t have as nearly enough fat as a baby should have; he was very tiny. The teen looked at his front mirror and saw the infant, who was gripping his mother__'__s fingers. __"Huh__…is he yours?__" He asked. The other teen grinned proudly and placed a hand on the top of the baby__'s flat head. __"Yes, he__'s mine.__" _

_The baby started to whine a bit from hunger, and Beatrice lifted a bit of her shirt to breastfeed him. Boog looked back as the whines were soon quieted. Beatrice looked lovingly down at her son and ran her fingers through his damp, fuzzy locks. He looked strikingly like her, except for his eye and hair color and gender. Her hair was much darker and she had brown eyes in opposite of his emerald ones. _

_"So what__'s his name?__" Boog asked casually._

_Beatrice didn__'t take her eyes off the infant. __"Lance.__"_

_The teenager laughed loudly. __"Ha! Like the military rank, a lance corporal? That__'__s cute!__" Beatrice laughed along with him. It had been a joke between her and one of her friends. _

_"Just give it the designation!__" she had thought to herself. __"Sure, it__'s the lowest rank, but that__'d be such a silly name, don__'t you think?__" Beatrice thought that that was a clever idea._

_Boog noticed the baby remove its mouth from its mother__'s breast and fall asleep, full. He made little gurgling noises in his sleep, and Beatrice wrapped him up in the blanket again, cuddling him to her chest. Her own stomach growled from hunger, causing her to wince. Oh, the days without food were the worst. Sometimes, a kind passerby would pull over in his or her car and give Beatrice a box of crackers, and on a good day, water._

_"You want to pull over? I can get you something to eat,__" Boog suggested grinning, and Beatrice nodded and smiled back. Just the mentioning of food made her mouth water. Maybe a half-hour later, they pulled up to a MacDonald's. Boog went through the drive though and asked her._

_"What would you like?__" _

_Beatrice nearly drooled. __"E-Everything...__" The man chuckled and gave her just that. She wolfed down her hamburgers and chicken nuggets; she mashed up some warm fries into paste and fed it to her little one. The fast food warmed her stomach and before long she felt drowsy. They drove on for hours__…and soon it was night._

_She lied down on the soft cushioned seat and put her son between her and the back of the seat, her back to the outside. He let out a yawn and bean to suck his thumb in his sleep. Beatrice smiled sleepily. __"Rest well, little Lance,__" she whispered, __"in a few days, I__'ll find you a good home.__" Her smile began to falter and a fine mist rose in her eyes as she stared at the baby. She wanted to keep him so badly, but reality slapped her, hard. She knew that it would be so unfair to the infant. Heck, she could hardly take care of herself, let alone a child! Tears trailed down her face. She had that bond with her child that every mother would have. However, not every mother had to give her child away. She stroked his fuzzy locks out of his little face and kissed his forehead gently. Lance stirred in his sleep and Beatrice held in a sob. _

_"__Sweet dreams, Sweetie. I don__'t believe you__'ll ever know how much you__'re mommy will miss you.__" With somewhat false hope, the girl nuzzled the baby to her chest and fell into a reckless sleep._

_Two days later, Beatrice stood with Lance asleep in her arms again, outside Galaxy Hills Orphanage. She wasn__'t quite sure what had happened next. It all happened so fast, and Beatrice wanted to block all of it from her mind. Someone had taken her baby and she lay sprawled on the desert sand, sobbing with grief over her loss. _

So what had happened to Lance after that? Beatrice trembled slightly. He said that he had grown up alone. Nobody had adopted him? She looked over the sheets of questions. He had skipped that one. He never mentioned any of the things she had remembered. Then again, why would he remember any of those things? He was only a newborn.

Now…he had so many mental issues. Was it because she had left him alone? Then, Beatrice remembered the father. The police had never found out who he was, but the fact was she remembered what the an looked like and that Lance had inherited some of the man's looks. The green eyes, golden-brown hair, the buckteeth and of course gender…could he have inherited a bit of the horrible man's mind as well? The thought caused the woman to cry again. She couldn't believe that THAT was her child. She had caused him to grow up in the most horrible of conditions and the guilt of just leaving him... How could she tell him? If...no: when. When she did tell him, how would he ever forgive her for what she had done? She needed to know what had happened after she had given him up.

Beatrice Corporal sucked in her breath, trying to calm her own self for whatever might happen. She placed a trembling hand on the doorknob of her son's door and gently opened it. She peeked in, and noticed that he wasn't in bed, which was odd, because that's where he usually was these days.

"Lance?" She had said his name many times before, but now it felt entirely different. She bit her bottom lip and shut the door behind her after walking in. "Lance?" There was no answer.

"It's Fanboy." She heard a sniff and looked to her left in surprise. There he was, costume and all, curled up in a corner, having a silent cry. He kept his bloodshot eyes on the ground and had his lanky knees pulled up to his face. It had pained her enough to see this child so wrecked as he was, but now realizing that she was looking at her own child in this state—oh she felt horrible.

Fanboy refused to look at her as she kneeled down to his level, and placed a hand on his cheek. At the contact, he slapped her hand away, and Beatrice drew back slightly. "Give him more space," she told herself. "Understand; try to understand like a good mother should." It was so hard, because it was all Beatrice could do from taking him up in her arms and kissing him over and over.

He squeezed himself tighter into the tight corner and stared at her with reproachful eyes. "What do you want?" Fanboy practically spat, "I told you to not talk to me anymore! I'm not worth your time! Go away and leave me alone!" Beatrice jumped at his intensity and withdrew her body a couple inches away from his.

"Lance, I need to tell you something, and it's very, VERY important," she began. He only scoffed.

"What?" he asked sarcastically, "Am I being let out?" He didn't even care if he was being rude. It was as if he lost all fear of punishment. Really, what were they going to do to him? Were they to lock him up in the asylum again? At least he had gotten some ALONE time, which was the least of what he got these days.

"Well, no," Beatrice murmured, trying to look at him in the eye, "instead" — "Then I don't care. The only time I'll ever listen to you is if I'm being let out of this prison," he snapped.

Beatrice closed her eyes and clenched her fists, trying to hold in her anger. When the storm cloud passed, she opened her eyes again. "Lance," she said, "I'm going to tell you a story. It's about me...and...it's also centers you."

Beatrice began explaining to him how she had grown up in a rather dangerous mountain town. She told him how she had gotten pregnant and how horrified her parents were. She told him that she had tried to reason with them, but they wanted her to give it up for adoption, and that was when she fled. Fanboy at least was listening, she realized. She told him about when she had spent countless nights on the streets, and gave birth on the street.

She spent months roaming for refuge, for a job. She was too scared to go to a homeless shelter; in fear of the people working there would ask for information. She had to take care of the baby in the woods, and she told him about how she felt so low. Fanboy listened with wide eyes.

Beatrice explained how she had gotten to Galaxy Hills and how she'd looked for a job for two days but with no luck. Nobody, it seemed, wanted to hire her. She didn't blame them. Who in their right mind would hire a runaway teenager? So she had given her baby up.

"W-What was the baby's name?" Fanboy asked in curiosity, still deep within her story. He would never have guessed that she had lived through such harsh conditions.

Beatrice smiled and took the male's gloved hands in hers before he could protest. She looked straight into the emerald irises with her own chocolate ones before replying happily, "Why, Lance Corporal, I believe it was you!" It took a few minutes for Fanboy to process what she had meant. When he finally did, he was stuttering, "W-W-What? Me? But…that can't be! I can't remember that!"

Beatrice laughed. "You were only a baby, Lance! I doubt you would remember!" Fanboy was still at loss for words, shaking his head over and over in disbelief. "N-No…that can't be…I…" He slapped his hands over his mouth to hold back a sob, but there was nothing to hide the tears streaming down his face. "I-I don't…" he choked out, "I never belonged to anyone…"

She shook her head and pulled the male into an embrace, and that was when he began to cry, long and loud. "Shhhh…" she soothed, her hand stroking the same soft locks she had touched years before. She placed his head against her chest and squeezed him tighter. She felt his arms wrap around her waist, which caused her heart to swell. The bond was quickly coming back. They collapsed on the floor, and she only held him tighter, beginning to cry herself.

Fanboy still couldn't believe it. They held on to each other for hours, and soon, it was night. Neither of them wanted to let go. Now that Beatrice had finally found her son, she never wanted to lose sight of him. He snuggled next to her, feeling a strange emotion vertebrate through his being. He had never really felt this way before. He continued to cry silently as his mother kissed his face over and over, as if she couldn't bear to stop.

"I can't believe I found you," she cried between kisses, "I-I just can't believe it! The last time I saw you, you were this big!" she used her hands for measurement and for the first time since Chum Chum's death, Fanboy laughed. He laughed so hard, tears squeezed out of his eyes. It was a lovely side for Beatrice, and for a split second, she saw a flash of who he used to be. Fanboy never thought he would smile again, and now he thought he would never stop.

"Blake! Blake! Did you hear?" From the couch of the wreck Room, Blake looked up at his friend, Charlie, who sprinted towards him. He hooked around Annabelle, who was seated beside him. "Did you hear?"

Blake held his hands up. "Whoa! Slow down! What are you talking about, man?" Charlie stopped to catch his breath and began to ramble again. "Aw dude, it's incredible! My God, you are not going to believe this! It's crazy, it really is. I mean, I could hardly believe it myself when Christopher told—!"

"Charlie! Dude! What is it? Just tell me!" Blake snapped, clearly lacking the patience for his buddy. Annabelle leaned forward, always interested for the new gossip.

"Okay, okay," Charlie grinned and took another deep breath. "So you know Beatrice Corporal, right, the psychiatrist?"

"…The one who holds all those pointless ice breaking circles... Yes, go on, what about her?" Blake insisted, crossing his arms.

"Okay, man, get this!" Charlie smiled a big smile, "Fanboy, you know, the psycho-nerd? Well, it turns out that today Beatrice found out that she's his mother!" The room-and yes, the WHOLE room, fell silent. Folks looked up from their books and phones with wide eyes. Others glanced at one another in confusion and surprise.

"…Are you being serious, man?" Blake gaped, and Annabelle leaned back into the couch, trying to piece the clues together. "Are you sure?" she asked.

Charlie nodded excitedly, "Yeah dude! I'm one hundred percent positive that I'm right! I asked some of the staff, and it is true dude!" Charlie playfully punched Blake's shoulder. "Isn't that cool?"

Blake glanced at Annabelle and smiled sadistically. "Well, well, well, it turns out that that little freak has someone he cares about! What do you think we should do about it?"

Charlie shrugged. "I don't think you should scheme now, bro. Just let them get to know each other. Then it'll make a bigger difference when you make yer move."

"Hmm… That's true. Don't you think, Anna?" The girl smiled a nervous smile and nodded in false approval. "Alright, I'll give him time to adjust, and then I'll strike. I mean, he doesn't have anyone left except for her."

"What about that Asian girl?" Charlie asked. "Shouldn't you do something about her?"

Blake stood up from the couch and began to pace the floor. "I suppose so. But I don't want to give the game away to the little freak. He needs to suffer. I mean, come on. Did you see him in the cafeteria? He's such an idiot!" This caused everyone in the wreck room to chuckle, who mostly just consisted of Blake's friends. Hearing this made Annabelle a little sick to her stomach.

"Blake?" she murmured. "Don't you think that you're taking this too far? Really, you're going out of your way to get rid of the ones he loves? Why?"

Blake stared at her. Was she really defending the freak? Was she really suggesting that what Blake was going to do was wrong? "Oh, you listen to me Annabelle," he said, pointing a finger at her face. "Whose side are you on?"

"What? Blake, I'm not on his side, but I have opinions, and"—

"Whose side…are you on, Annabelle? Whose?" Blake interrupted. "I don't want you to have anything to do with that brat-and-a-half, got it?"

Annabelle opened her mouth to protest, but caught herself and instead said, "Yours. I'm on your side. Sorry. I just thought that there would be another way. Why don't you just shoot him?"

"Shoot him and put him out of his misery? Fat chance!" Blake laughed. "Although...Shooting… That sounds like a good idea. It's quick and painless for the victim. The survivor at the end… He'll become the victim to his own depression."


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

Fanboy had never felt this bond before. This strange, intimate bond. As he lay safely in her arms he felt a sense of security and love. He felt cared for. Was this how Chum Chum felt when he held him, when he hugged him? He supposed that this was the connection that mothers felt with their children. It felt…great. No, it felt more than great.

Beatrice shifted her body in her sleep and Fanboy snuggled himself closer to her, draping the bed sheet around them. He couldn't sleep. Not with his thoughts running a million miles per hour. He still could not yet believe that the woman holding him in her arms was his mother. The irony.

He had noticed a resemblance of himself on his mother's face. He hadn't paid any attention to it until now. For the first time since Chum Chum death's Fanboy felt loved. However, he did have feelings of suspicion. The last time someone had said that she loved him; she had ended up rejecting him.

_"Do you love me?__"_

_"Y-Yes.__"_

_"Do you really?__"_

_"Yes.__"_

Fanboy grimaced at the thought. Well, that was over, but he still felt a feeling of resentment against Yo for what she had done. Though it really couldn't compare to what he had done. He had almost killed her. Grimacing once again, Fanboy felt a soft, warm hand drape over his waist and another rest on his cheek. He then felt a pair of lips on his forehead. He flinched at the contact because he wasn't used to being touched like this.

Several weeks passed. It took quite awhile for Fanboy to get used to the person now had a special place in his life. One day, she wasn't there, and then the next thing he knew, she was. It was very strange having a mother who was technically in charge of keeping you locked up. But Beatrice tried the best she could to get closer to Fanboy any way she could. During lunch, she would talk to him about his life, about her life, trying to catch up on the things that had happened to him. It took awhile, but Fanboy began to grow fonder of her.

"So," she had mumbled, chewing thoughtfully on the chicken everyone was served, "since you're my son, I think that we should try to get to know each other better.

Fanboy shrugged. He had been seated besides her, not concentrating on what she was saying but more of the stares burning through the back of his head. Blake's especially.

"I suppose so. Um... What's your favorite color?" He asked rather timidly. He tensed up, waiting for her reaction. He was now always afraid that he would say the wrong thing. She sensed his discomfort and wrapped an arm around his fragile shoulders, bringing him closer.

"Hm... I like emerald," she answered, smiling at her son. Then out of nowhere, his eyes flickered to the ceiling and they widened with fear. Beatrice frowned and looked up as well, but their was nothing there. "Honey?" He didn't move. He seemed to be in some sort of trance as his eyes were locked on the ceiling.

"Emerald?" He glanced up at her with wide eyes, clearly confused. "Is that a type of...blue?"

Beatrice laughed, "No sweetie, it's a green! A type of crystal as well! It's the color of your eyes!" She playfully poked his nose. Fanboy bit his lip and looked away, a warm blush rising up in his cheeks. What he was seeing in his mind was YobnaF, hovering almost mockingly above the two, gory and sinister looking as ever.

"Lance? Lance!" Fanboy shook his head clear to see a pair of fingers snapping him in front of his face, which snapped (no pun intended) him out of his hallucinating frenzy. His mother asked, "What were you looking at?"

For a moment, he didn't answer. The last thing he wanted for his mother was for her to worry about him, so his first impulse was to lie and say that he saw nothing as was just spacing out. Then again, this woman was a lie-detector, so his attempts to fool her would be futile. Then he muttered quietly, "YobnaF." It hurt to say that dreaded name aloud.

"YobnaF," Beatrice repeated, more to herself. She sat back in her chair, deep in thought. "YobnaF. It sounds like that's "Fanboy" spelled backwards, right?"

Fanboy didn't answer.

"Does YobnaF ever...tell you things?" Beatrice asked the male, noticing his uncomfortable, squirmy mood.

"Y-Yes," the hero said softly, averting his emerald eyes away from hers. "H-He does."

"What does he tell you?" Beatrice gently took his violet gloved hands into her own when he remained silent. "Lance, this is very important. I love you, and as a mother, I want to help my child. Does YobnaF ever tell you things?"

Fanboy felt the pressure on his hands increase and he bit his lip. "H-He's really mean. H-He tells me bad stuff." The woman nodded, encouraging him to go on.

"What does he look like?" She wondered.

"Me. He looks like me.

"Oh," he had mumbled, twiddling his thumbs, "I knew that."

Beatrice smiled and gave him a small squeeze, "And yours?"

"Purple. Like in a sunset."

He had spoken very little and Beatrice could sense his discomfort so she let go and gave him some space. "Favorite song? Mine is Master of The House."

"I don't have a favorite song." He had kept his emerald eyes trained to the ground, afraid, and so very anxious. What if she didn't like him at all for that matter? He'd felt the tears building up and his bottom lip trembled.

11:37 PM

Fanboy woke up screaming, clutching the thin blankets that covered his body. He was covered in sweat and tears poured out of his eyes. Instantly, his mother's arm wrapped around his body, her lips on his cheek, comforting him while he sobbed his eyes out.

"Shhhh… It's all right Sweetie, it's okay..." she soothed her child. He wiped his eyes and tried to calm himself. Another nightmare. Which usually led to another sleepless night, but not tonight. Tonight, he had his mother.

"I-I'll never be a-able to sleep!" he cried. "Chum Chum won't stop dying!" Another round of tears erupted from his eyes. The woman cradled him in her arms and listened quietly while he poured his heart out to her. Would he never have a good night's sleep?

The walkie-talkie on her belt rang, cutting their embrace short. Beatrice stood up and answered it. "Hello?" Fanboy watched her with a loving gaze, sniffing and letting out a sob every once in a while. "Yes… No. I'm in the middle of…is he? Oh no… W-Well tell him that I'll be right over." She placed the phone down and glanced at Fanboy, her face suddenly pale as she tried restoring a feeling of calm in her voice. "You have to hide, Lance. Closet, now."

"Why?" Just as Fanboy uttered that, the two heard a colossal crash. It seemed like it was right down the hall.

Then a male's voice yelled, "Hey! Fanboy! We haven't finished!"

Fanboy covered his mouth as Beatrice rushed to the door and locked it.

"FAAAAAAANBOOOOOOY?" the terrifying person yelled once more. The idiot! Didn't he know that he needed to be QUIET in order to take someone out unnoticed?

Beatrice rushed to Fanboy's side and gently pulled him to the space behind the bed. She placed both hands on his shoulders as the boy had begun to shake in terror. "Shhhh, it'll be okay! Don't worry! I'll handle this. You stay here and keep quiet, okay?"

Fanboy whimpered, and tears ran down his face, but now, from fear. He began to hyperventilate. The woman pushed his hair out of his face and shushed him. She then brought his face to her chest and held him tightly. "Shhhh, it's all right Lance. Everything will be all right, Sweetie."

"No!" Fanboy sobbed. "NOTHING will be all right! NOTHING! Blake hates me and wants to hurt me! He'll kill me!" Another terrifying thought flowed through his mind. "Y-You'll leave me all alone! Y-You wouldn't… Would you?"

The woman closed her eyes and shook her head as her heart clenched. This child was broken. And it was all her fault. "No, Lance. Not everyone hates you. You're wrong, and I don't hate you. I love you."

"Everyone DOES hate me!" Fanboy was becoming hysterical once more. "N-Nobody EVER wanted to be my friend so I went so low as to DREAM one up! But he was never there!" Fanboy howled in agony. "ALL THIS TIME I'VE BEEN TALKING TO THE WALLS AND THE AIR AND EVERYONE IN GALAXY HILLS WENT ALONG WITH IT! NOBODY TOLD ME! N-NOBODY TOLD ME!" he began hiccuping and mumbling gibberish and hyperventilating. "I MISS HIM!" Fanboy cried. "I MISSED YOU SO MUCH MOMMY! I MISSED YOU SO MUCH! I MISS HIM SO MUCH! CHUM CHUM! Chum Chum…!"

There was a pounding on the door and both people froze and Fanboy continued to let out his hiccuping sobs. Beatrice looked from the door to the crying child frantically, and covered his mouth with one hand, the other wrapped around his waist. He tore his head from side to side but the woman kept her grip firm. Finally, Fanboy stopped struggling, and only let out nearly inaudible whimpers.

There was another pounding on the door. "I hear you in there, Psycho-nerd! I'll get you!" Blake called out from the other side. He laughed. Laughing about how hilarious it was that he was about to blow a certain someone's brains to bits.

Fanboy's eyes enlarged and he wrapped his arms around the flat-headed woman's waist. He sniffed, and buried his face in her stomach as he heard her screech, and the door being knocked off its hinges, falling to the floor with a crash. Beatrice stood up quickly and moved in front of Fanboy in a protective stance. Blake, looking much more menacing, held a small gun, and pointed it right at Fanboy.

"I got it from one of the security guards!" He laughed. "Cool, huh?" He cocked the gun on its side and grinned at Beatrice, who stood in front of Fanboy, protecting him. "You want a taste of bullet too?" Blake asked.

Beatrice took a deep breath to calm her own self down and looked intently at the teenager. "Blake," She began. "Let us think about this rationally. You cannot be in here, because I am busy with someone. Put the gun down, please."

Blake gave her a dumb look, "You think I'm stupid?" he asked, placing a finger on the trigger. "Get out of the way or I'll shoot you."

Beatrice didn't move. "Then what will be your defense?" She asked him, "Please, do the right thing. Put the gun down." Blake smirked. He didn't lower the gun an inch, and Fanboy began to whimper again.

"Blake?" He whispered, peering out from behind the woman's waist. "Don't hurt her. You can kill me, but leave her alone! She did nothing wrong!"

Beatrice gave Fanboy a perplexed look. He was defending her? Well that was a first, considering how he seemed so timid of Blake, who enjoyed torturing him on a daily basis. "No, Lance. You stay where you are. He's not going to kill you. Not while I'm here."

Blake only laughed again. "Oh please. I'll just shoot both of you," and he slapped Fanboy with a look so scary that it gave him the chills. Was there a solution? The answer was probably not, because they were completely unarmed. "What? Do you think I'm going to let you live? Her especially?"

"In that case, can I have a few last words with her? Before you kill me? I just want to say goodbye."

Blake nodded. "I'll give you sixty-seconds," He said.

Fanboy nodded miserably and looked up at Beatrice. At least it would buy them some time. But what if it weren't enough? She looked back at him and smiled sadly.

The gears in his head spun, and he shook his head clear. Then, the reality of the situation hit him. Fanboy sniffed and stared up at her face. A few tears ran down her own complexion and she pulled him close. He began to cry again. Beatrice said nothing; she just ran a hand through his hair and kissed the top of his head.

Out of a billion chances, Fanboy finally met her: his mother. The chances of meeting her were so slim. It took him eleven years… His emerald eyes stared up at her sapphire one and he smiled through his tears. Now they were going to die. She smiled back and wiped some of the tears that were trailing down his face. "…M-Mommy?" He whispered, the word feeling strange coming out of his mouth.

Beatrice smiled. "Yes, it's me sweetheart. I'm so glad I finally got to meet you."

Fanboy's smile got bigger, "I'm sorry you had to see me like this," he whispered, "I-I'm so sorry…about everything. It's my fault."

"It doesn't matter to me," Beatrice said firmly, "I don't care if you have imaginary friends; I don't care if people don't like you, because I'll always love you, no matter what you do." Fanboy covered his mouth after letting out a cry. Those words stabbed deep within his chest. Beatrice leaned down close to his ear. "Lance, I love you, with all my heart. I always have. I never got over the fact that I couldn't take care of you. I'm here now."

Fanboy sobbed happily. He had been waiting so long to hear those words. "It's all right," she whispered. "It's all right, Mommy's got you." He gazed into her eyes. "You never gave up on me, even when I was so mean! I-I"—

BANG!

The young woman collapsed on the floor face down, dead. Fanboy didn't have any time to react before another bullet caught her leg, and he fell to the floor screaming and crying.

"…MOMMY!" He screamed, "NO! DON'T LEAVE ME AGAIN! PLEASE DON'T EVER LEAVE ME! …MOMMY!" His head rested on her stomach and he sobbed his eyes out. NO! JUST NOOOOOO! He had wanted to announce his love to his parents for so long, to his father, to his mother, and now she would never hear him say it. He kissed her softly on the cheek and cried, "I-I barely knew y-you! I-I love y-you!" He screamed in agony, depression again pulling him deep down into an abyss. How could this have happened? Was this a nightmare? This HAD to be a nightmare; the worst one he could conjure up! He cuddled into her chest, not caring if her blood was drenching him. He at least wanted to be in her presence when Blake shot him.

He waited…

And waited…

…And waited.

Nothing…

Fanboy dared to opened his eyes. Blake was gone.

...

After that tragic incident, Fanboy could not stop thinking about his mother. She screamed for help in his nightmares, and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it. He stood trembling, too scared to help her. "What if she hadn't died?" He thought to himself one day. Would she have taken him home? Or would they have resumed their lives the normal way? He would never know now. He learned that Blake had earned himself much needed extra time at this place. And that was all.

He refused to come out of his room for about a week, and when he DID come out, it was to get food. He walked past Elliot without even acknowledging his existence. He ignored anyone who tried to show his or her remorse for what had happened. He never showed up for ice-breaking circles. He never talked to anyone. He stayed in his room all the time, not caring if his mother's bloodstains were a permanent addition to the floor. She was in every thought, every image that came to his mind, it was Beatrice Corporal.

He understood why Blake had not shot him. He thought back to when he had shown up the teenager at the lunch tables, and he bent over him and said, "_I will make you suffer_." Blake had obviously no intention to kill Fanboy, only the intention to hurt the ones he loved.

Fanboy spent his days in bed, sobbing over the loss. He had cried so much that his eyelashes had dried salt on them from the tears he had shed. His eyes were puffy and bloodshot. He now truly was alone. Now he truly didn't belong to anyone. Who was he: A stupid, pathetic, naïve child, with no friends, no father and no mother. What was his identity?

No longer Lance Corporal, but something else. Not Fanboy, but not Lance. He figured if he were ever to describe himself, it would sound like this: My name is... I'm eleven years old…I love super heroes... I want to be one... My best friend is Chum Chum... I suffer from some disease I can't pronounce, but it means that I hallucinate and I am supposedly bloodthirsty. I have depression, the worst case everyone said they have seen. My best friend is dead, but I still see him, because he was never real…I almost killed two people. My mother is dead…I don't know who my father is."

He had at least experienced pain. The kind of pain that would shatter even a hard-set adult. The kind of pain that even being stuffed full of sedatives would not block. The kind of pain that even with years of therapy could not endure. He was dead, but not allowed to die. Thriving, but as good as dead... And he could not escape the pain.

One, day, Fanboy sat at an abandoned table at the back of the cafeteria. The light over him was flickering, hiding and concealing him within the shadows. Yo approached him quietly. Nobody else noticed, for they were in their own groups. He yearned to block out their voices forever, because the only thing that the patients would talk about was how Beatrice had been shot. Eventually, that would turn back to him. Everyone kept stealing glances, and he hated it.

"Fanboy," she whispered. At an attempt to cheer him up, she had brought him a Frosty Freezy Freeze. He had his arms crossed on the table, his face hidden slightly. He stared right ahead with his dead, dull eyes. She placed his favorite drink on the table and waited. He made no movement, no expression, or even acknowledgement that she was there. He just breathed. She scooted the drink a little closer to him, hoping that he would at least take a sip. After a few moments, he just turned his head on the side and closed his eyes, a few tears flowing down his reddened cheeks. Yo nearly crumbled in sadness. She backed away from the table a few steps and all she whispered was, "I'm sorry Fanboy. Feel better," and then she left.

Who came to take Yo's place? Surprisingly, it was Marsha who came to express her sorrow. Fanboy had the decency to look up at her, but than reared back with a yelp. "Don't hurt me!" he cried, shielding his face with his good arm. "Please!"

Marsha backed away quickly. "I'm not going to hurt you!" she exclaimed, holding out her hands in defense. "I just came here to say that I'm sssssssorry!" she hissed.

Fanboy slowly lowered his arms. "T-Thank you," he gulped, "C-can you leave me alone now please? I-I don't want to be near anyone right now." Marsha nodded, and left the boy alone. That was the last he saw of her.

Yo came back a few minutes later to find that he was gone, but his drink was left untouched. He was suffering so much, she realized. He didn't… Yo already knew that he didn't want to live, and why would he want to? There wasn't exactly a purpose for him in life. Not one that she knew, anyway.

She recognized that look in his eyes, that look he had at the funeral parlor of his best friend. They looked bleaker than usual, like something inside them had died, or snapped. Yo took this into account and stiffened; she was sure that Fanboy was going to do something nutty. With a sense of dread in her heart, she sprinted out of the cafeteria.

She caught up with Fanboy easily, who was just about to go into his room. She placed a hand on his shoulder and squeaked, "Fanboy?" He just sort of shrugged off her hand and went inside, Yo following close behind.

Fanboy's P.O.V.

My name is... I'm eleven years old… I suffer from some disease I can't pronounce, but it means that I hallucinate and that I'm supposedly bloodthirsty. I have depression, the worst case everyone said they have seen. My best friend is dead, but I still see him, because he was never real…I almost killed two people. My mother is dead and she was killed right when I was about to tell her that I loved her. I don't know who my father is.

I don't look at Yo. I don't want to see her, and I certainly don't want to talk to her. I still hold a grudge over what had happened at my house, and I'm sure she knows it too. I guess I should have taken the Frosty Freezy Freeze. It would be nicer. But I'm sick of being nice. So why pretend? I'm sick of being looked down upon. I feel just sick generally. I know why she's here, why she followed me, but I don't want to be a part of her manipulating games. I don't trust her anymore, nor do I understand her at all! I mean, this is the jerk that revoked our friendship, lied to me about loving me, (which I'm not surprised over, but still angry), and I hate her and maybe even more than that idiot Blake. And now here she is, following me like a stupid baby duck, acting like she cares. I don't know, I just… I don't know what to think anymore.

When she deliberately follows me into my room, my first impulse is to snap her neck off. I thought that I made it clear that I want to be left alone! But then again, if I do hurt her, I'll just be caught and punished. So I just don't acknowledge her when she touches my shoulder again.

"Hey," she whispers. I give her a quiet grunt in response and walk to the corner of the room, not looking at her. But she still follows me. Ugh, wasn't it like this when she used to try and steal Chum Chum from me? The thought almost makes me grin but I remember. She's a viper.

She pokes me, much harder, and I feel anger surge up inside me. It's all I can take to resist the temptation to break her nose. Still I don't answer, but I feel a lump rising in my throat. My avoiding everyone, all because of my mother getting killed... Is that a legitimate reason? I find myself comparing the bad things that have happened to me, and for a split second, I wonder if this should be at the top of the list. She keeps whispering my name. It's Yo's, but it also sounds like my mother's. It keeps repeating and soon Fanboy, spoken by Yo, changes into Lance, it's now my mother's voice. I stare at the wall in front of me, trying to morph into the patterns of the white wallpaper, trying to block Yo's voice out of my head. Why can't she leave? Doesn't she take the hint? Even Chum Chum knew when the Fan-o-Meter was running hot, and he at least vacated himself from the premises.

Soon, the voices grow louder, and it's as if I can almost see them swirling above my head. They transition into screams of pain, and I collapse, covering my ears with both gloved hands. "Go away!" I scream. The voices stop at the sound of my own, and I continue to scream; only this time, tears are running down my face. I know Yo is there, I feel her hands wrapped around my shoulders, holding me close, but I don't want it from her. Do I?

"Go away!" I scream again but this time it's directed at her. She doesn't let go, and I tear myself away from her. She needs to go. Now, before I kill her. I can hear those voices that whisper to me. The voices that tell me to hurt, that tells me to do all I can to make someone miserable. Is it because I am so miserable that I want to kill? Is it like those bullies who pick on others to feel better about their own selves? I might not be far off, because when I attacked Yo in the FanLair, I felt so in power, so in control. I felt great. I never want to feel like that again.

Yet those voices are so tempting, I wonder why I hadn't heard them before? Then again, I had been hallucinating since I was six. I suppose when Chum Chum died, depression teamed up with the deranged section of my mind. I haven't forgotten about those times when Cum Chum was still alive. Those times when I had gotten angry, when I had wanted to be a villain. I was diabolical. As time passed, it all led built up to a special someone's death.

Now as Yo holds me, those voices are telling me to hurt her, and I listen. I turn around and shove her off me. I want to pin her down and beat the living daylights out of her and then watch her blood splatter, but I resist. She gawks at me, and it's no surprise.

I just glare at her a few moments. She looks terrified of me, and the thought doesn't put a damper on my anger. In fact, it only fuels it. Believe me; I have no idea what is wrong with me. Nobody does. And the only thing I can think of now is, "What would my mommy think of me?"

My fists are clenched in resistance, and I face the corner again. "Go away," I mutter, "before I hurt you. And I don't want to hurt you." That's a lie. I want to rip out her spinal cord and maybe jump rope with it. I have a lot of disturbing thoughts and that saddens me. I want myself stripped of those things and go back to being joyful, innocent, and carefree, not a care in the world. But that was fake and this is real.

My mother never knew about the weird thoughts and neither my urges to hurt others… I feel my face heat up as Yo once again wraps her arms around my torso. "I'm not leaving you," she murmurs, and I know at once that this is true, because she takes my hand and pulls me over to the bed, and she sits at the foot, me at the head.

"I want you to tell me what happened after Ms. Corporal dropped you off at the orphanage," Yo says, and I feel anxiety shoot through me. How could she have known about that? In fact, how could anybody know about that? She takes note of my bewilderment and adds, "Ms. Corporal told the staff before she told you, and I overheard."

I shake my head, my anger rising again, but now it's more fear. "No! I'm not talking about her!" I snap, pulling my knees up to my face. I'm not doing this. Yo couldn't beat the answers out of me.

"Talking will help," Yo says, and I so badly want to punch her. That's what my mother said to me. My shoulders begin to shake and I feel that rotten lump shimmy up my throat again. I'm going to cry, and I don't want to. Not in front of her. I try to swallow back the lump and it doesn't work. If I start talking, I will most likely cry. Yo acknowledges this. "Fanboy, you can cry. It's okay, I understand."

"No!" I yell, the tears are winning, and the lump releases itself, and soon, I'm sobbing my eyes out. I choke out, "Yo, you don't know what it's like! You don't understand at all, so don't say that you do!"

I'm a bit surprised when she glares at me and says, "I understand! My mother died too you know! She died when I was four." Yo pauses and I feel immediately feel guilt.

"Oh," I mutter, not meeting her eyes. I don't know what to say. We sit in silence, and then after a while I say, "I suppose I should just tell you to get it over with, right?" Yo nods in approval, and I feel waves of memory come crashing into my mind

_"Lance? Lance! Get your butt out of there now!__" the woman yelled in the five-year-olds ear. The male in question curled up under the covers and when he didn__'t respond, the woman smacked him on the head with her clipboard. __"I said GET UP!__"_

_A small whimper was her reply, and a little boy peeked out from under the covers. __"I want my mama,__" he whimpered. The woman yanked his fragile arm and dragged him out from under the laundry basket, forcing him to stand before her. He trembled in fear before the old woman as she continued to badger him restlessly. __"__You ain__'t got a mama you stinking brat! Now get inside and stay there where I can keep my eye on you, Lance!__"_

_The five-year-old straightened his posture, trying to look a bit taller. __"M-My name is Fanboy!__" he said, and then went back to a slumped little figure as the woman leaned over him, smiling a terrible smile._

_"Get. Inside. Now. I don__'t care what you__'re name is, you still listen to me! Got it?__" the woman yelled. Before Fanboy had a chance to answer, she grabbed his little arm once more and dragged him inside to where all the other kids played. The teacher Ms. Olive smiled at the little boy as he slunk to a corner to play with some marbles. After the awful instructor had left, she walked over to Fanboy and kneeled down to his level._

_"Don__'t you want to play with the other children, Lance?__" she asked him. He shook his head quickly after a look of fear had crept onto his face. She chuckled and sat beside him. __"Did you like any of the mommies and daddies that came over for Adoption Week?__" She asked. Fanboy nodded, but didn__'t take his eyes off the marbles. __"Uh-huh, but the mommies and daddies didn__'t like me very much. They said I was weird,__" he murmured. _

_Ms. Olive sighed under her breath. Five years had passed and this child was still up for adoption. Were there really no takers? __"Well, that__'s all right. Why don__'t you go play with your friends?__" she suggested, eager to get the kid__'s mind off the fact that he was an unwanted child. _

_"No,__" he said, and crossed his arms. He looked at all of the children playing together, looking so happy. It filled his heart with strong negative emotions, and a wave of envy washed over him. __"I want to play by myself.__" _

_Ms. Olive shrugged. __"Suit yourself but don__'t be afraid of anyone,__" she said, and went over to help a kid whose drawing had ripped._

_Fanboy stared at his gloved hands and said nothing. He wanted a friend, but when he tried to play with any of the other kids, they laughed at him and always kicked him out of their games. He didn__'t have any friends, and he felt very lonely._

_Every day at the orphanage he was told that he was nobody, and that he belonged to nobody. He had gotten a costume to feel better about himself. To show everyone that he was special, that he was a super hero, and that he protected everyone. He never answered to Lance and he forgot his last name after a while. He was Fanboy now. It hadn__'t stopped them still. In fact, it had fueled their cruelty. _

_He sat by himself and after a few minutes, he started to get bored. To his surprise, a little girl with raven black hair walked up to him, smiling. __"__Hello!__" she exclaimed happily, and Fanboy smiled back. It wasn__'t a real immediate friendship, but it started something. They played together, day after day, until she never came back to school. Being so young, Fanboy didn__'t know that she had simply gone to another school. So he was convinced she didn__'t like him, and that she had left him. Every day was miserable for him. He always ended up crying at the end of the day, and the instructor would get angry and hit him. He wanted a friend more than anything, but nobody understood him. Being misunderstood led to many sleepless nights that left him crying. He sat by himself once again, until one day; he saw something shimmer on the carpet. Another little boy was wearing a super hero costume. Oh good! He wasn't the only one now. Usually, Fanboy would be too afraid to approach another child, but this one was small and seemed harmless enough. He walked over and waved. _

_"Hi!__"_

_The other little boy just grinned and poked Fanboy__'s face with his gloved finger. __"Eye!__" he exclaimed._

_Fanboy had to go to the hospital, for his eye had been poked out, but it was all worth it to him. He had a new friend. Chum Chum. That explained the glass eye he had. He walked home with his new best friend that day, and thought that this child had no family. He was simply always there. _

_At the orphanage, Fanboy played only with Chum Chum. He tried introducing him to his friend Lupe, but she had just given him a strange look and walked away. __"__I don__'__t understand,__" Fanboy whimpered after Lupe walked away. __"Why didn__'t she say hi to you?__" _

_Chum Chum only smiled and hugged his legs. __"__I don__'t care. You__'re my friend though, right?__" _

_Fanboy picked him up and hugged him. __"Yes!__" he exclaimed joyfully. __"You can be my sidekick!__" He felt a warm feeling flow through him, a feeling he had never felt before, at least not that he remembered. Love. _

_"Yay! Best friends!__" __Chum Chum cheered. __"We__'ll save the world!__"_

_Fanboy pumped a fist in the air. __"For justice!__" he shouted in his best heroic voice, and they both fell to the floor laughing. A few passersby__'s gave the child weird looks as they walked through the hall. _

_And that was the beginning of their friendship._

_Fanboy didn__'t care that people stared__—he had a best friend that liked the same things he did! Even though their appearances were completely opposite! The instructor however, did not like it at all._

_"Stop talking to yourself!__" she yelled at him in the nursery one day, while he was playing hide-and-seek with Chum Chum. He looked up at the woman in confusion, and every other kid watched to see what he would do. __"__I am not!__" he muttered, and crossed his arms. __"I__'m talking to Chum Chum.__"_

_When the instructor was angry, like really angry, she would become quiet, and that was dangerous. She was like this now as she leaned down next to the boy, her hands clasped behind her back. __"And who is Chum Chum?__" she asked, her voice sickeningly sweet. Being so young, the child didn__'t understand the danger signals and replied with confidence, __"He__'s my best friend ever and my best sidekick ever!__"_

_He had never had such a beating as he did that day._

_At night while everyone was eating, Fanboy hid under his bed, arms wrapped around his bruised, lanky knees and crying. __"I want my mama!__" he would cry. But then he remembered the instructor__'__s words. __"__You ain__'t got a mama you stinking brat!__" It made his little heart shatter and he cried harder, his sobs coming out in big, noisy gasps. After two hours he was exhausted and he felt a pair of hands on his fragile shoulders. __"Let__'s run away!__" Chum Chum__'s voice whispered excitedly. __"Then we can go to the FanLair and save the world.__"_

_Fanboy__'s voice shook as he whimpered, __"Do you really think we could?__" Chum Chum nodded and the older boy felt assured. He crawled out from under the bed. Moonlight streamed through the windows, clearly showing the fresh bruises and stinging cuts aligning the little boy__'s fragile face._

_"__Good idea, Chum Chum!__" he whispered with excitement. __"Let__'s go now!__" The boys were careful not wake any of the other sleeping children as they exited the building. They shivered in the night air and started walking down the sidewalks, their little shoes leaving scuff marks. Every time a car would pass, they would hide in the bushes, neither of them wanting to be caught._

_It took awhile, but they finally entered the water tower, feeling much less dependent! Everything real was forgotten. The masks hid their true identities and nobody recognized the little boy who was once named Lance. _

"I remember moving to a different school," Yo said, avoiding Fanboy's eyes, knowing that he would hate the pity portrayed in hers. "I suppose I was too young to understand what was going on. I'm sorry I didn't tell you."

"It's all right," he murmured, playing with the hem of his cape. "Listen, Yo. I'm not mad about that. Not in the least bit. What I'm mad about is that my mother was shot and I barely knew her as my mother." He sniffed.

The Asian girl smiled sadly. "I'm really sorry Fanboy. I would have taken her place for her, for you."

"Oh Yo," he murmured, closing his eyes. "Don't say that."

"Why on earth not…?" Yo asked, "From what I remember, you said the same thing about Chum Chum!"

_ Fanboy nodded gravely and said, __"Yeah, I mean if I could just rewind this whole thing and start over, I would have gladly taken Chum Chum__'__s place.__" His voice flowed through her mind._

"That's different," He argued.

"Different? How is it different? You would give your life for someone, and so would I!" She proclaimed, defiantly crossing her arms over her chest.

Fanboy pinched the bridge of his nose between his forefingers in exasperation. "Look… I don't…" He trailed off as his voice began to tremble. "It's my fault. Both times it was. T-That's how it's different."

"Oh stop! That was not your fault!"

"IT WAS!" he yelled abruptly, causing her to freeze. "Blake killed her! Blake! He said to me at the lunch tables that one day that he would make me suffer. I waited for him to shoot me. But he didn't. He left me there, and my mother was dead…" Fanboy held back a sob. "She was dead, and I couldn't do anything about it. I could have tried to save her, but I hid behind her like a complete wimp!"

"That's your natural instinct," Yo tried to soothe him. "A child's instinct is to look for the parent's protection. You did that. You were scared; so you looked for your mother protection. And did she hesitate did keep you safe?"

Fanboy shook his head. "No," he admitted. "She stepped in front of me without hesitation! And it doesn't make sense! I've been so horrible to her, why would she protect me?"

Yo leaned over and gripped Fanboy's shoulders, giving him a jolt. "She protected you because she loved you, Fanboy!" She said firmly, emphasizing each word. "You were her child! If she were a bad mother, she would have let Blake shoot you."

Fanboy shuddered. "That's a scary thought. I didn't know she loved me." He fell onto his back and stared at the brightly lit ceiling. "It isn't fair," he murmured. "It just isn't fair. I-I never even had the chance to tell her how I really felt. Not really."

Yo looked down at him and shook her head in agreement. "It isn't," she approved. The two didn't say much after that. Fanboy crawled under the covers to get warm and Yo joined him after a while. He pretended not to notice as she wrapped her arms around his waist and embraced his being. It was warm… very warm. She pressed her face against his upper back, and he tensed at the contact. "Yo," he muttered, "Let go." He twisted around to face her, and he felt his own face heat up, for they were inches away from each other.

Yo shook her head in contradiction. "No," she said, "I am not leaving you to suffer." And she embraced him once more, cuddling into his chest. Fanboy began to pant, and a sick feeling invaded his stomach.

"No," he wanted to say. "Let go!" He placed a trembling hand on the top of her head and tried pushing her away. She refused to let go, and the male found himself shaking. "Yo, let go!" he was disgusted at how squeaky his voice sounded, and she refused. Finally, he gave in, but still having a silent cry over how unfair the world was. He felt disgusting. His mother's death was his own fault, he decided. He was horrible. He was going to Hell. Then again, most of his life was already Hell, for he couldn't imagine anything more badly than this. He let his chin rest on the top of Yo's head, the only audible thing comforting him was her breathing. At least he was warm.

"I have to tell you something Yo."

"What is it?" She asked, eyes closed.

"Chum Chum isn't real. He was our imaginations the whole time." Fanboy felt Yo's grip on his torso tighten but she said nothing. Did she already know or was she playing along just like everyone else had in town? "You pretended that he was real."

"He seemed very real, because you really thought he was. It was almost as if I could see him too," Yo sighed. "The truth is, I felt sorry for you. Yes, I know it sounds like everyone else, but I did. So I tried to play along so you wouldn't get...you know," she trailed off.

"Snap? It did eventually happen," Fanboy muttered, "but that was my fault. I imagined him getting hit by Boog's car."

He felt his eyes flutter in tiredness. Understandable, for he hadn't slept in days, the nightmares keeping him up at night. He felt so warm and drowsy… Wrapping an arm around Yo's waist, he shifted his body to a more comfortable position, and fell asleep. She gazed up at his sleeping face and moved a strand of golden-brown hair out of his face, smiling. At that moment, she felt a sort of protective feeling overtake her mind towards the super fan. "There, there…" she cooed to him. "Everything will be all right, you'll see." She placed a gentle kiss on his cold cheek and held her lips there, as if she were trying to warm him. Somehow, he could get better. But it would take a miracle. Hours passed until Yo was sure it was night. Everyone was most likely in bed.

Kyle entered her train of thought. He should've sacrificed his precious Milkweed for Fanboy, for just a wave of his magic wand to fix all this.

_"I understand that it__'s hard to believe, but I have turned in my test results__… A-and Professor Flan is at last letting me re-matriculate at my rightful place at Milkweed. The council of the top wizards agreed as well, and as for Sigmund__…" Kyle grimaced slightly at the very mention of the sorcerer. __"__Well__…never mind Sigmund. I can handle him anytime. A-Anyways, there has been a new rule that has been enforced in the school, and__… Look, wizards that enroll in that academy aren__'t allowed to work their magic upon humans until the wizards graduate.__" _The memory made her cringe.

…What a stupid rule. Couldn't the so-called intelligent wizard council have made an exception for mentally ill humans? What a stupid rule. Yo quieted her breathing to listen to the rhythm of Fanboy's heartbeat.

_Yo nodded, her hands balled up into fists, steam coming out of her ears, her teeth grinding against each other. __"I understand what a complete JERK you are, you PATHETIC excuse for a FRIEND!__"_

Ouch. That had been a little mean, even if it was true.

Then a few moments later, her heart filled with terror. Her breathing stopped, her heart pounded within her chest. She was filled to the brim with the same terror she had when Fanboy had attacked her in the FanLair, when Chum Chum had died at the car accident. She froze and opened her mouth to scream, but was instantly silenced by the bullet that entered her skull.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Blood poured from the wounds of Fanboy and Yo, drenching the pale-blue fabric of the bed covers. "Just KILL ME!" He yelled at Blake, who had seemingly run out of bullets. "IF YOU'RE SO TOUGH THAT YOU'RE GOING TO KILL MY ONLY FRIEND, JUST KILL ME!" He was mentally hysterical and was gripping the gun and pressing the entrance to his forehead, anxiously demanding the bullet that would end his short life as it had done for Yo.

Blake grunted, "I'm out of ammo," threw the gun down, easily tossed Fanboy over his shoulder, and began walking out. The child went crazy; hitting Blake's back as hard as he could with his one good arm, still trying to get one last glimpse of Yo.

She was pretty. She was thin, had lush raven hair, and beautiful sapphire eyes. She had straight, perfect teeth and a lovely smile. That was the last time Fanboy thought he would ever see her. Dead. She was dead and gone.

As Blake walked out the back door of the hospital, Fanboy began to lose his strength. His sobs quieted to pathetic whimpers as his energy drained away. He continued to whine and slumped tiredly, shivering in the cold night-air. Blake continued to walk down alleyways, down deserted streets, away from the brightly lit city. His footsteps echoed in the darkness, and Fanboy thought that he'd pass out from fear. The chatter of people began to fade, the whirring of car tires disappearing.

Then, the buildings began to disappear and Fanboy began to hear the sound of crickets. He feebly lifted his head and saw dozens of cactuses. They were in the desert outside the city. But now, Fanboy couldn't even see the city. His head slumped again and the throbbing in his leg worsened.

A few minutes later, Blake stopped in a clearing, lit by moonlight. He tossed Fanboy to the dirt ground, and the young male cried out and winced as the impact caused pain to shoot through his broken arm and wounded leg. He began to scoot away as Blake advanced, cracking his knuckles. "I don't think you had a good-enough lesson taught to you!" He sneered.

Fanboy let out a scream of rage, "You IDIOT! Do you realize what you've done?" Blake just smiled and grabbed Fanboy by the cape, nearly choking him in the process, lifting him up in the air and letting him fall. "Whoops! I'm such a klutz!" Blake faked an expression of sorrow. "Oh wait, that's you!"

Fanboy just glared at him through his black eye. "HAVE YOU NO HEART?" He yelled. He gripped his thigh and stared at the ugly wound that the bullet had caused. He wasn't sure if it had severed his main artery…

"Take it out."

Fanboy stared at him, not sure if he had heard the older teenager correctly. "W-What?"

"I said take out the bullet, or I'll torture you out here, and you know it." Blake promised, crossing his broad, tattooed arms over his chest.

The super fan looked back at the wound, and back at Blake, who motioned toward the gash. He knew that the teenager was speaking the truth. He would torture him out here. "Do it. Do it now." He commanded.

Fanboy's bottom lip trembled as his fingers neared the wound. The blood seeped out, and he lightly brushed the crimson liquid away, careful not to touch the actual thing. Gritting his teeth in concentration, Fanboy shoved his fingers inside the wound. He screamed through clenched teeth, but he didn't withdraw his digits as they explored deep inside of his thigh. Finally they grasped something solid, metal. The bullet!

The boy withdrew his fingers and finally pulled out the blood-coated bullet. The blood had not ceased to leak from his leg, and now there was a painful aching in the upper quarter of his thigh.

He sat there crying, until he began to feel dizzy. Blake plucked the bullet from Fanboy's palm and tossed over his shoulder. He then looked over the many bruises he had inflicted upon Fanboy's face. Even a few of his teeth were missing. He smirked, ready to take few more of them out. He raised his fist and through blurry vision, Fanboy saw it enter his lie of sight. Then his stomach, then his chest, and he doubled over in pain, then his neck.

Fanboy opened his mouth to scream, and Blake punched his jaw in response. "Nobody can hear you, freak. Not anyone, not your friends, if you had any. Too bad your precious mommy couldn't save you! What was her name? Beatrice?" Fanboy wanted to murder Blake at the sound of him saying his mother's name. "Well, too bad she couldn't save you. Oh, and it is such a shame that you couldn't save that little Asian girl. She's dead now. Oh, but I'm not going to let you die. I'm going to keep you alive, but just barely."

Fanboy stared into Blake's coffee eyes. What had made him like this? Why was he doing this to him with no hesitation? There was no regret in his eyes, no penitence in what he was doing. Fanboy made a weak attempt to punch Blake, and it actually worked. The older teenager fell backwards, and struck his head on a rock and the sound of crushing skull emitted into the area. He remained motionless.

Fanboy stared at the older teenage, who made no movement whatsoever. The realization nearly sent him in a swoon. "I-I killed him," He said softly, while blood leaked down his face.

One word washed over his mind and stuck: Run.

Fanboy ran, ignoring his thigh, which had begun to throb again. He ignored the many cactus spikes, which stabbed him if he got to close. He ignored the rattlesnakes, which hissed at him in warning. He just ran. He ran and ran and ran and ran…

Where would he go? He didn't even know the name of the city he was in. He just ran and ran and ran. He never stopped, not even to look for water. He just wanted to run until he died of exhaustion.

…

Finally, after many hours, the sun rose, and Fanboy finally collapsed on the dirt. He gazed at the clouds weakly, beautiful color they were, a light pink and a hint of yellow. It reminded him of Yo. He forced himself to stand up and look over the desert. It was beautiful, really, with many beautiful birds and rabbits and even a few deer. He still couldn't see any civilization though, and the thought saddened him.

"Hey, Chum Chum?" He called out, his throat cracking from dryness and thirst. "I need to talk to you."

He shut his eyes and tried to believe. "Concentrate," He told himself." Concentrate on Chum Chum. What does he look like? He has big chocolate eyes, he's on the large side, and pretty short, he's got dark brown hair-"

"Hello Fanboy!"

Said boy opened his emerald eyes and glanced downwards. He smiled. "Hello little buddy!"

Chum Chum wrapped his arms around Fanboy's legs and giggled. "You look funny!"

Fanboy put on a happy face for his friend and almost laughed. "I do, don't I?" It was true. The cactus he had bumped into the night before had torn most of his clothes. He looked much disheveled.

"You said that you needed to talk to me?" Chum Chum asked, his big eyes looking up at Fanboy's own.

Fanboy nodded slightly. "Yeah, Chum Chum." He knelt down to the other boy's level and took a deep breath and blinked back tears. "I-I…" He cleared his throat and asked, "A-Are you… real?"

Chum Chum placed a hand on Fanboy's exposed, lanky shoulder. "It depends on how you look at it," He said, "or how real you make me to be."

Fanboy sniffed and wiped away the tears, only for fresh ones to take their place. "Fanboy, I'll tell you the truth. I'm not real. YobnaF was right. I'm only a part of your imagination. You have an excellent imagination. You wanted a sidekick and you got a sidekick!"

Fanboy broke down crying almost immediately and Chum Chum hugged him soothingly. "Fanboy, I'm literally a part of you! I'll never really go away!"

"I don't know what to do anymore, Chum Chum!" Fanboy screamed in agony, "I don't have anything left! Do you know what this means? Everyone's gone! My mother…Yo…"

Chum Chum shook his head. "No," he smiled, "not everyone." He leaned forward, and seemed to disappear into Fanboy's mind and body, causing the older boy to slump to the ground. He was alone again... The silence was deafening. The tears wouldn't stop. Fanboy stared up at the sky. …But he wasn't entirely alone.

He looked behind him. A road…

...

"Mr. Blood-Worth Thomason. Please report here to my desk." The redheaded wizard forced himself away from his newly given assignment and marched down the desk aisles, ignoring the many whispers that started to emit.

"H-Hello, Professor Flan," Kyle muttered nervously. "Is there a problem?" The raspberry dessert creature shook its head in response and snapped its gooey fingers. A sheet of paper appeared out of nowhere in a cloud of pink sparkles. "Mr. Thomason, I believe you have a letter."

Kyle failed to recognize the significance and slight suspicion bordering his professor's voice. "Oh, is that all?" he sighed with relief, placing a hand on his chest. "Thank goodness. You had me for a moment there! I thought that I was in trouble!"

"It appears to be a letter, from a mental hospital on earth."

Kyle gave him a blank look. "Remember? The place where you had me stuffed in an icebox! And you tossed me away in the freezer!" The professor growled. "I almost expired a day old!"

The young wizard flipped his hand. "O-Oh, I was simply…preserving your… wizardry prowess! So that future generations could, you know, enjoy you, and taste you and… Wait. A mental hospital?"

"Indeed."

Kyle glanced over his shoulder to see that all fifty-two children were staring at him. "What on earth do they want with me?" Professor Flan grimaced. "Apparently," he began, glancing at the document, "there were these two patients that had somewhat to do with you. One of them named…err…Yoko?" Kyle's jaw went slack. "Yo?" he thought. "Oh goodness, what has happened?"

"She has died. And the other has—hey what are you doing?" Professor Flan rose from his desk, and every student goggled at where Kyle had once stood, now only a cloud of sparkled trailing in the air.

When Kyle opened his eyes, he was standing in front of the mental hospital. "Never underestimate my power," he chuckled, but then his expression turned to worry. "Oh heavens," he muttered, opening the door to the place and stepping inside, "Yo passed away? That can't be right. And who was that other patient? I guess I shouldn't have left so quickly."

The woman at the front desk glanced at him. "Um, hello," he mumbled, trying to not let his voice crack. "Is Yo Sakura a patient here?" The woman removed her glasses and squint down at him. He shuffled uncomfortably. "Not anymore, she's not."

Kyle gasped. "W-What do you mean by that?"

"Are you a friend of hers? Her body is up in room 314." Kyle nodded and transported himself to that very place. "Oh, this is awful." His stomach churned with fear as his hand gripped the cold, metal doorknob. "Yo…" he trembled. No matter how confident a child may seem: a child is still a child. The door swung open and the Brit hastily stepped inside. The first thing he saw was the blood. It was on the floor, the walls, and the bed. A figure laid there, a pale blue blanket covering her. A man with a fedora hat stood beside her, with tears in his eyes. Kyle's stomach churned and he hunched over, almost throwing up.

It was Yo. Memory flashed before his eyes.

_"No__…Kyle. I know a lot people think that Fanboy will commit suicide__… But you__'re a wizard! A WIZARD! You can do anything! Can__'t you heal him with your magic?__"_

_Kyle looked down at the table and shook his head, guilt filling his heart. __"I-I can__'t.__"_

_"Why NOT?__" Yo growled. __"Ugh, Kyle, I know you don__'t like Fanboy, but just this once can__'t you help?__"_

_ Kyle looked at the girl in confusion. __"What? It__'s not that I don__'t like him__… __Well, I don__'t, but that isn__'t the case. No, I mean that__…" He paused to clear his throat. __"Yo__…" he continued softly, __"I__…I__'ve been re-admitted to Milkweed Academy. I__'m leaving next week. __"_

_ Yo gasped, and she felt like she had just been kicked in the stomach as her mind tried to register what Kyle had just spoken, __"W-What?__" She choked out._

_"Yes,__" Kyle continued, averting his eyes from her, __"I understand that it__'s hard to believe, but I have turned in my test results__… A-and Professor Flan is at last letting me re-matriculate at my rightful place at Milkweed. The council of the top wizards agreed as well, and as for Sigmund__…" Kyle grimaced slightly at the very mention of the sorcerer. __"__Well__… never mind Sigmund. I can handle him anytime. A-Anyways, there has been a new rule that has been enforced in the school, and__… Look, wizards that enroll in that academy aren__'t allowed to work their magic upon humans until the wizards graduate.__"_

_ Yo was at lost for words for a few moments as the boy__'s information sunk in. No. No it couldn__'t be__… __"B-But__…" __She stuttered. __"Couldn__'t you make an exception Kyle, just this once? Can__'t you just talk to him?__"_

_Kyle shook his head grimly. __"N-No, Yo, I couldn__'t possibly__…" he trailed off once more and sighed. __"Listen, Fanboy__—he__'s been blessed with a cheerful personality, so perhaps he can heal on his own. See here, just try to understand-__"_

_"Oh, I understand alright.__"_

_Kyle looked up, the confusion evident on his face. __"You do? Is that so?__" _

_Yo nodded, her hands balled up into fists, steam coming out of her ears, her teeth grinding against each other. __"I understand what a complete JERK you are, you PATHETIC excuse for a FRIEND!__" And with that, she ran out the door, sobbing._

_Kyle abruptly stood up from his chair, shoving it backwards, and he shouted, __"YO! I WOULD HAVE HELPED IF I HAD THE CHOICE!__" Yo ignored him and slammed the door behind her. Kyle watched her leave, and then stared down at his Necronomicon in sadness._

_"You should help him,__" it said, giving a knowing glance to Kyle. He shook his head in response and hid his face. __"__N-No. I won__'t. I__'m not going to ruin my life-long goal for the person who__'s been preventing my finish!__" He felt horrible saying that, and it made him sound like a heartless jerk, but that was how he felt._

_"I suppose he would help you in a state like the one he is in,__" the Necronomicon pointed out. Kyle shook his head and picked up his fallen chair. __"I know, but I__'m not like him. I__'m not talking to him.__" A lump rose in the Brit__'s throat, __"N-Never, ever again.__"_

Kyle felt that stupid lump rise in his throat and a few tears slid down his face in tiny streams. What had happened after he left Galaxy Hills? Why was she here? And who was that other… Oh no. It was Fanboy, wasn't it? It had to be him. Yo… she was the one that said he needed help. Kyle hadn't helped and now look where they were. Where was Fanboy?

"Excuse me?" Kyle called out to the man in the fedora hat. "Excuse me? Is Fanboy a patient here?" At first, the person did not seem to hear him, and Kyle stepped a little closer and repeated it.

The man finally looked up, and Kyle recognized him. "Oh, Fedora Man! It's you! What are you doing here?" He was shocked to see that the guy's eyes were bloodshot and tears were gathering up in the corners.

"I understand what a complete JERK you are, you PATHETIC excuse for a FRIEND!" Those words hurt, even if they were true. He was a horrible friend, leaving his friends a mess behind, and wouldn't even attempt to help them.

"N-No. I won't. I'm not going to ruin my life-long goal for the person who's been preventing my finish!" Oh, why had he said that? It was how felt, so was it wrong so to speak?

"I know, but I'm not like him. I'm not talking to him." A lump rose in the Brit's throat, "N-Never, ever again." Kyle stared down at the bloody blankets and motioned himself forward, approaching the poor victim. "Sir?"

Elliot finally glanced upward, only to look back at the girl. "Are you Yo's friend?" Kyle mustered up a heartbroken smile and nodded. "Yes, and I can fix her," he whispered, "I am I wizard, you know."

Elliot smiled. "I dare say you manage it, chap. But she's gone." Kyle rolled his eyes and snapped his fingers, causing his wand to appear in a cloud of pink sparkles. "I am a wizard! I can fix her!" He needed to redeem himself, and getting back into Milkweed had not fixed what was really important. He had to do this. He had doubts, yes. Like what if it didn't work? Wait, no. He could do this! He was Kyle the Conjuror! He could do this. Kyle lifted the blanket off of Yo and nearly threw up at the sight. Blood…

Turning pale, Kyle closed his eyes and began muttering a strange language under his breath, one that only wizards would understand. He concentrated on the magic that he wielded at his fingertips—a blue glow surrounding them. Elliot watched, impressed. Kyle placed his glowing fingers on the girl's bloody forehead and released the magic into her wound.

"..."

Fanboy stumbled down the road, Galaxy Hills in the distance. He closed his eyes, and hobbled nearer. The sun beat down on him, and the lack of water made it all that horrible. At the hospital, being so depressed, Fanboy had completely lost his appetite. And now, for some strange reason, it was back, and he realized that he was starving. His stomach was in such pain that he could hardly bear it. Yet, he walked on. He had seen the sign earlier, Welcome To Galaxy Hills, and underneath that, someone had spray-painted, and "THIS PLACE IS BANANAS!" And under that, someone had spray-painted, "We're Sorry!"

The child felt so little compared to the giant looming buildings, and he silently slinked inside the city, making sure to stay well out of sight. He remembered this place. Yet, none of it felt real anymore. "It's all faked," Fanboy mourned. "It was all faked." He walked down alleyways, through dark streets and shortcuts to avoid being seen by anyone he knew. These were the streets he had walked down with Chum Chum that time. "No. No, I didn't really. It was not real." So… he had always walked down these streets alone.

He found his house easily, and slipped inside, shutting the door behind him with a slam. Instantly, a pang of hurt tugged at his heartstrings as he looked at the living room.

He couldn't be here. He didn't belong here. And now that he thought about it: he didn't belong anywhere. It was like what Francine had said. He had no name, no friends, and no family, nobody to care for him. He needed to leave. He'd go anywhere but here. He'd start over. And he would start by jumping over the railing.

Just as Fanboy was about to slip out the door, he heard someone gasp, "F-FANBOY?"

Fanboy spun around and looked at the second balcony. Oz, walked down the wooden stairs. "Fanboy," he whispered, placing a hand over his heart. The next thing the boy knew; he was in Oz's arms. He was sobbing. The younger male didn't return the hug, fearing Oz would slip away as well as his mother did.

"FANBOY!" Oz sobbed. "You have NO idea how worried I was about you!" He pulled back to get a better look at the boy's form. "W-What happened to you? Where've you been?"

He stared at Fanboy with wide eyes, expecting an immediate response. It took several seconds for the child to process the adult's question. His own eyes filled with tears and he cried, "Don't send me back, Oz! It's terrible there! There are people that keep hurting me and trying to kill me, and, and…"

"And what did they do?"

Fanboy slumped, his thoughts whirling like ice cream in a blender. "A-and my mommy's there," he whispered. "I can't go back. She's dead." He shook his head and looked at the man with sorrowful eyes. "The people there threw me in a mental asylum!" He cried, "And they put me in a straitjacket! I'm never going back, Oz. So don't try to make me!" He planted his feet on the floor, and tensed his body, as if he thought that Oz was going to literally drag him back to the mental hospital.

Oz just stared at him. "F-Fanboy," he whispered. "You…you need help. You seriously can't stay here."

Fanboy felt lightheaded. "N-N-No Oz, NO!" It was his worst fear coming true. Even the townsfolk wanted him to leave. Trap him in a cage.

Oz shook his head and reached out for the boy. Instinct took over Fanboy's mind and he sprinted for his bed, crawling underneath it to where Oz couldn't reach.

"Fanboy, wait!" The man followed him and stared under the bed to where he was huddled. The boy snarled softly and curled up, not trusting the man at all. No, he was NOT going back! Never! He would rather die! "D-Don't touch me!" He growled, "If you touch me, I will not resist the temptation to break your neck!"

"Come on little dude, seriously! You can't do this to yourself! You're hurt!" he added, eyeing the boy's broken arm and leg. "I wasn't sure of myself when I said you were going away. You're not leaving!" He held out a hand to Fanboy softly, like trying to coax a paranoid kitten away from its mother, showing it no harm would come.

_"You have to kill him! Kill him before he gets you_!"

"Don't come any closer you idiot! I'll KILL you! I WILL!" The child screamed. He looked at the hand disdainfully, and shook his head.

Oz gazed at the boy, not sure of what to say. "Come on little dude," he whispered. "Don't be afraid. I'll take care of you. You don't have to be hurting anymore. Would you like that? Seriously! Wouldn't you love to be able to run and play again with your classmates?"

"NO!" Fanboy shouted, "Never again! I hate being around those people!"

Oz ignored that statement and continued, "Besides, I'm sure everyone misses you so much! I know I did. I missed you, Fanboy."

It took a few hours, but Oz's coaxing word's fooled Fanboy. He looked hopefully at the child as his hard-set look began to fade as he placed a tiny hand in the adult's much larger one. Oz gently ushered Fanboy out from under the bed, which still looked very doubtful, and pulled him into an embrace.

Oz was enormously worried about Fanboy's psychological state, and even more about what he would do. He rested the boy onto his bed and lifted the covers over him. Fanboy said nothing as Oz ran a hand through his hair and sighed, looking at the boy and wondering what to do with him.

He gently inspected Fanboy's arm, deciding that the cast and sling were still operational, and he wouldn't remove it. Instead, Oz wrapped a bandage around Fanboy's leg, which still bled from the day before. Fanboy winced and bit his lip.

"Oz?" he whispered.

"Yeah, Buddy?"

There was a short silence. "D-Don't leave me, Oz. Please don't."

The man smiled. "I wouldn't dream of it," he reassured the smaller male.

Then Fanboy remembered: sleep. He was so exhausted. He fell backwards and by the time his head hit the pillow, he had already fallen asleep.

When he woke up, Oz was gone.

…Big surprise.

His bandage on his leg had finally soaked up all the blood from the wound, and it hurt to move. He gently hobbled out of bed to take a quick shower and then went back to sleep.

Meanwhile, Oz had crept back to his shop, where his mother was waiting for him. "Mother!" he cried, "You aren't going to believe this! The old woman's eyes widened as Oz explained where Fanboy had been and what state he was in now. How he was injured and how his clothes were in tatters. Oz's mother was quiet for a moment when he had finished talking.

"Is he hungry?" she asked. Oz nodded. "If he walked back all the way from where he was, he must be starving. And I checked his fridge; everything in there had gotten spoiled."

"Well, invite him down here so he can eat," Oz's mother insisted. "And perhaps I could do something about his clothes and injuries." She ushered her son out the door.

They hadn't known it, but Fanboy was thinking about food that very moment. "If I were to die," he thought, clutching his stomach, "I would die in comfort. I don't want to die a slow painful death. Not by starvation. But what do I do?" He hobbled over to the kitchen and opened the fridge door. He cried out in dismay when he found it empty of good food—the rest spoiled. "I shall die presently," he whimpered, staring down at his small, undernourished body. He began to tremble from hunger. "I can't take it!" he cried. "I don't want to die like this!" He placed a hand on his upper torso—he could feel each individual rib protruding through his clothes and his flesh—and even the bones seemed weak and fragile. He crumpled to the floor and tried to scan for ideas, when he heard the front door open.

"Fanboy?" he heard Oz's voice. He sniffed, and tugged at his torn shirtsleeve that was hardly covering his exposed shoulder. He was a bit surprised that Oz had shown up again. He was so sure that the man had left for good. He walked out of the kitchen to meet him. The man sucked in his breath at the sight. Every time he thought of Fanboy, he pictured a smiling, happy-faced kid. Every time he saw the child now, reality struck him like a slap to the face.

"Hey, mother and I wanted to know if you wanted to come downstairs," He said. The younger male shook his head slowly and stared at the ground. His first impulse was to say no—like now. He had too much on his mind and he'd rather not feel the presence of other people. Still, he was a little happy that Oz had come back. "She wants to fix your costume," he added, knowing that would tempt the boy. He was right. Fanboy eagerly walked towards him. "S-Shall she?" he asked timidly.

Oz nodded and smiled. "Yes," he said. He wanted to surprise Fanboy with the food. Looking down at the child, he knew that he had not eaten for a while. He looked emaciated.

The moment Oz's mother saw Fanboy—she gasped. The child didn't blame her, for the last time she had seen him was at the accident. He looked very different obviously. "Oh, honey what happened?" the elderly woman cried, placing a wrinkled hand over his much smoother, bony one. Fanboy stared at the floor—his new favorite place to look at.

"Nothing," he mumbled. Oz's mother nodded in approval and ushered him upstairs. Fanboy looked around him in curiosity. Though he had been to Oz's countless times, he had never been upstairs before. She led him to her room, where all her sewing supplies were. "Here honey," she said, handing Fanboy one of Oz's shirts. He took it gratefully and put it on, and gently removed his costume underneath, and handed it to the woman. Oz's shirt was huge—the neckline fell around Fanboy's bare shoulders, his skinny arms protruded from the large armholes, and the hem went down to his mid-thighs.

He curled up in the large armchair and allowed himself to rest while Oz's mother worked on his costume. Every now and then while she stitched, she would steal a glance at his bony legs, arms and shoulders. Occasionally, she heard his stomach growl in hunger and he would curl up tighter, his face burning from embarrassment.

He didn't know that Oz was preparing a snack for him, and when the man came up to the room with six hot crescent rolls, Fanboy's mouth watered. He couldn't quite believe it when Oz placed one of the buns in his lap—he could feel the warmth from it. "Here," the man said, smiling, "Eat it, and you won't be so hungry."

Fanboy stared up at him with wide eyes, and then snatched the roll up and crammed it into his mouth. Oz watched him with surprise as he literally gorged the bread down his throat—nearly choking himself in the process. The child chomped the rest with wolfish delight. He tore of big chunks of bread and stuffed them in his mouth. As he did, Oz would hear him mutter with ravenous delight, "Thank—you thank—thank you!"

Oz lay down three more rolls in the child's lap, and again, the ravenous voice was awful. Then again, if Fanboy hadn't eaten nearly anything for weeks, kitchen manners would be overlooked. Oz's mom watched in fascination as Fanboy stuffed himself with the bread. He kept making little grunts of satisfaction like an animal. "Slowly, eat slowly," Oz said, but the child was too famished to slow down. Oz laid down the last roll and Fanboy again crammed it in his mouth—as if it was going to melt away, and he wanted it in his stomach before that happened. When he finished off the last of the six buns he gazed up at the man and murmured a quiet, "Thank you," licking his lips. He curled up once more in the armchair and fell asleep almost a couple of minutes afterwards, finally fed and warmed.

"You're welcome," Oz whispered. He gently lifted the little boy's limp, bony body and carried him to the guest room down the hall, setting him on the bed. "You rest little dude. Mom will fix you up and then we'll have dinner." Although Fanboy still looked scarred, the food had restored something in him. At least he wasn't as hungry as he was before. Oz lifted the covers over him tucked the boy in.

He didn't leave him alone that time. He just sat with him, examining the boy's beaten face, protruding from the covers. "Whatever happened to you," Oz whispered. "Whatever happened…" he trailed off and closed his eyes as he felt a lump rise in his throat. He couldn't even finish. "Oh God, Lance…I…" He bit his lip and slapped a hand to his forehead, trying to hold in a cry.

An hour passed…

"Dinner is ready honey," called Oz's mother. She stood in the doorway, watching the two. She sighed sadly at the sight. "We're having chicken, mashed potatoes and some fruit on the side. Oz nodded and gently woke the boy, who for a few moments forgot where he was. "Oz?"

"Come one, we're eating," the man said, gently ushering the boy out of bed and don the stairs. He too couldn't help but notice the malnourished body protruding from his shirt.

Fanboy's starvation seemed to have caught up with him as he sat down at the table, surrounded by the delicious food. He gazed up at the raven-haired man and shyly whispered,

"Thank you!"

The rest of the dinner was some sort of delirium to the boy. He wanted to cram all he food into his mouth at once, handful by handful, but he forced himself to eat slowly. "Honey?" Fanboy looked up from his plate to Oz's mother. "Do you think you'll be able to buy your own food on your own?" Hm. That was an issue. How did he even buy food for himself in the first place? The child squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, trying to remember. Nothing. His eyes reopened.

For a moment, Oz saw a flicker of recognition flash across the boy's face. He nodded, and mustered up a smile. "Yes, I think I'll be able to make-do on my own, but I really appreciate what you've done, and I can't thank you enough."

Oz's mother beamed. "I finished repairing your outfit! I'll inform you two that that was one of the most difficult of rags I had ever seen together in my life! I'll get for you when you're finished eating," she assured him. Oz was quiet during these moments. He was very worried about Fanboy's psychological state, and he knew that it would take a lot more than a few crescent rolls and chicken legs to repair his mind.

"Mother," he whispered, leaning over to her while Fanboy was distracted with mashed potatoes, "I'm very worried for Fanboy. I seriously think he should go see a doctor. I'm worried for his mental health!" Oz's mother nodded and whispered back, "I dare say you should manage him, but you aren't his parent!"

Fanboy looked up and watched the two whispering without them knowing. He couldn't hear exactly what they were saying, but he picked up the words "doctor" and "parent". Images of his mother flashed before his eyes. The memory of her being murdered caused him to shudder.

"Are you all right, little dude?"

Fanboy forced on a smile. "Uh-huh. I'm just a little cold," he lied, tugging at his oversized shirt. It was a reasonable lie, and Oz believed it. "Let's fetch your costume, shall we?" Fanboy nodded, happy to focus on anything else except what had happened at the mental hospital. Oz motioned the boy upstairs and gave him his costume. Fanboy took it gratefully and smiled.

Fanboy did eventually return to school after returning home. He would much rather go there, as long as it wasn't the mental hospital, but before he returned to school, he did what he needed to do. Walking over to Chum Chum's grave, he began to dig. He was alone, apparently. Nobody was there to stop him to what he was about to do. He plunged the blade of the tool into the ground, and pressed his weight against it. It sank in about half an inch. Perhaps there was a downside to under eating, at least one that mattered to Fanboy. He wiped his brow and grunted as he continued to dig.

A couple of minutes passed with him working nonstop. Then, a half-hour passed, and then an hour, and then two hours. "How deep did they bury you, Chum Chum?" Fanboy panted, pausing to shove the shovel into the ground and lean against it to catch his breath.

It took awhile, but Fanboy's shovel blade struck something hard, wooden. He sighed in bitter relief and dug the rest of the dirt out, throwing it into the pile behind him. He gently brushed away the dust from the top of the casket. He again grabbed the shovel and with a grunt, stuck it against the casket's handle and lock. It broke off easily, and Fanboy slowly opened the lid, and peered hesitantly inside.

"…"

Nobody... There was nobody there. All that lay within the coffin were just a soft white blanket and a laced pillow…and his mask. Fanboy trembled slightly and his grip on the shovel loosened. His body slumped forward, and for a moment, he felt like fainting.

So, this was how it was. Chum Chum simply…never existed. Fanboy's face burned and tears built up in his eyes. He eyed his violet cowl through blurry vision that lay untouched on the lacy pillow and plucked it up. Sliding the article of clothing over his face, covering his complexion, was probably one of the most relieving things that he had done. He felt a wave of relief shoot up his spine and he shuddered with respite. His face was hidden again, and it felt much better.

Wait. Should he really be doing this though? Then, out of nowhere, an intense, angry feeling surged up inside his chest. "I'm taking this back!" He snapped to no one. "Chum Chum wasn't ever real, so why should I even bother caring?" He left the shovel where it was and somehow managed to hoist out of the six-foot deep hole. He began to walk across the streets, heading back home.

With his mask he felt a little safer, he felt more protected. Best of all, those mental hospital people would never recognize him, if he ever did happen to run across them.

They…they wouldn't bring him back, would they? Would they really hunt him down? He shuddered at the thought of them hunting him down to shove him behind locked bars and leave him to rot. Would they throw him in jail or would they bolt him up in the mental asylum like an animal in a cage? The thoughts scared him, and that caused him to want to return home all the quicker. "T-They will probably find Blake," Fanboy realized, "and when they do, they'll know I killed him." He began to walk a little faster. "They'll have to want to track me down."

Thinking of Blake caused Fanboy to think of his mother and he sniffed.

"I-It just isn't fair. What did she do wrong? She didn't deserve to die!" Fanboy mumbled to himself. "I barely even knew her, as my mother at least." He looked up at the heavens. W-What would she think of him if she knew what he was going to do? If she were here, she would surely hate him.

At school, it was awful. Nobody spoke to him, much less looked at him, and the teacher ignored him. He knew why. If some nut showed up at his school, he'd probably avoid the kid too. So, as everyone stayed out of his way, he stayed out of everyone else's way. He figured that it would be easier for everyone if he just kept to himself.

At least he had the mask. He felt like without it, he would have been attacked. That's what he viewed things in his mind: everything just seemed like a monster, ready to kill him. He was crushed by the end of the day, and when Nurse Lady Pam tried to give him a hug, he gently brushed it off. "I'm not worth your time," he had mumbled to her, "and I don't deserve any hugs." But, oh, he wanted them, more than anything. But…he couldn't, he didn't want hugs from her. He wanted a big hug from Chum Chum, an embrace from his mother.


	17. Chapter 17

_**Chapter Seventeen (Rough Draft)**_

Dollarnator watched sadly while Fanboy slowly wasted away in his insanity and depression. The child who had created him, his best friend, was dying. Was deteriorating. Even though he was just a machine, he felt pained. He had tried to persuade the boy to go out and get help, but every time he asked so desperately, Fanboy would just stare at him through unfathomable emerald eyes until the cyborg backed away with discomfort, stuttering out apologies for being a bother.

The boy was becoming harder and harder to reach out to. Every day he seemed to chip off little by little, and there was nothing that Dollarnator could do about it. He needed a wake up call, and then one day, the cyborg had an idea that might capture Fanboy's attention.

"Fanboy," he said softly, moving towards the boy, who was laying silently on the couch, staring absentmindedly at the wall. He slowly looked up at his creation when he heard the Austrian accented voice and made a small noise in response. "Please, I need to ask you something."

"Ngn..."

"Listen, I know you're very upset about what happened to your mother," he said sadly. "So naturally, I think you'd be curious about what happened to your father. And I just wanted to show you..." He trailed off and shrugged as Fanboy suddenly looked interested.

"My..." He croaked, "daddy?"

"Yes. Your father. But I must warn you. What you are about to see might shock you." He raised a metallic finger and pressed a button on his dashboard, pressing a random button. Instantly, his screen lit up with the bright blue light before focusing on a room. A small room that consisted of a table with two men seated. Fanboy watched intently. One man looked like he was a businessman sitting across from a man that looked rather...shambled, but even more shocking, he looked just like Fanboy.

_"Would you think of yourself as a serial killer? An assassin?" The business-looking man asked, holding a sheet of paper. _

_The golden-haired man dressed in crimson red leaned back in his armchair and flashed his buckteeth. The crimson hue, however, was not the natural color of the fabric he was wearing. _

_"Heh. Assassin. That sounds so exotic," he teased, "__Well, I__'m sorry to say that I'm neither."_

_Here he was, back in the nut house, back in a prison. With a doctor spending at least eleven hours a day trying to penetrate the mind of this ruthless killer._

_"If I understand you correctly, you're positive you killed more than fifty people." The doctor stated, adjusting his steel-rimmed glasses._

Fanboy's stomach lurched.

_"Oh-ho! Definitely, definitely," the man chuckled, looking sadistically pleased with himself._

_"You're sure of that one?" The man asked._

_"Oh, yes."_

_"You don't think that it was more than two hundred?" The man asked, leaning forward. _

_Silence…The smirk dropped from the golden-haired man's face._

_"I wouldn't say definitely to that," the man mumbled staring at the ceiling._

_The doctor gave a nod, a flip through a paper._

_"Maybe yes, maybe no? I would say a little less than two hundred people?" the man guessed. _

_"You tell me," the doctor said._

_The man chuckled again, the smirk returning to his face and he leaned back in his seat. "I wouldn't say less than two hundred people."_

_The doctor clasped his hands together on the surface of the glossy desk. "You killed more than two hundred people."_

_A shrug. "Sure. Yep. I killed; basically, I killed more than a hundred people when I was a young man. Before I even knew anybody," He laughed, "Too much."_

_Another silence._

_"One part of my life, I killed people for nothing, just if somebody looked at me wrong, I would kill them. …Stab 'em, shoot 'em…"_

_"You tended to shoot people up close personal," the doctor reminded him._

_The man grinned, a combed his fingers through his dirty golden-brown hair. "Definitely. I wanted to tell them just before they left. I wanted to say goodbye."_

_"So you wanted to look at them in the eye?"_

_"Oh yes, I wanted them to look straight at me. This was a long way away. We were close."_

_"What did you want them to think as they died?"_

_"I just wanted them to see my pretty face. Make it the last thing they ever saw, was I. And if they carried that glimpse, to infinity, eternity, or whatever it is, they're gonna be thinkin' of me, all that time. I'd be looking in their eyes, I would see their fear, and I'd watch them die. I just didn't shoot them and simply walk away. I saw the surprise, the shock… the blank. And then BANG! They're gone. And then all I saw was my reflection. *chuckle* But that's it."_

_"Did you have a favorite place you liked to shoot?" the doctor asked._

_"__A favorite?__"_

_"Yeah."_

_"Well, most of the time, when you're up close, you'd shoot 'em under the chin. You'd shoot 'em…" He trailed off for a moment. "You'd shoot 'em one time in the uh, Adam's apple, and see how long it would take 'em to die."_

_"How long did it take?"_

_"A few minutes. They'd drown actually."_

_"Drown in the blood?"_

_The man nodded. "Mm. I was with somebody else in a fifty-dollar bet. I lost."_

_"You'd thought he die faster?"_

_"__Yes.__"_

_The doctor tapped his chin with a pencil. "Do you know what an adrenaline rush feels like?"_

_The man nodded. "Oh yeah."_

_"What will give you one?"_

_"Sex. I know what you're thinking. I don't get adrenaline from hurting anybody, shooting anybody. It does nothing for me. It just brings me pleasure to have sex."_

_"Well, that's a different source to have an adrenaline rush," the doctor said._

_"It's the only pleasure I get. If I were to beat somebody up, it would do nothing for me. If I were to knock him down and step over him, it would do nothing for me. If I would hurt anybody, it does nothing for me."_

_"So you can never get a feeling out of it?"_

_"I'd get a little. It was disappointing. That's when I figured I must be crazy. Because I figured, that out of them, someone should get me a feeling. …Something."_

_By the age of twelve, Stanley was already showing signs of pathological behavior._

_"How were you with animals, at that age?"_

_"Mm. Deadly."_

_"__Cats? Dogs?__"_

_"Yes, cats, dogs. I used to tie two cats tails together. I'd drape them over a clothesline and watch them rip each other apart."_

_"How long does it take?"_

_"Not long."_

_"Did they both die?"_

_"Heh. Well, I never stood around to see the final thing. I'd say, eventually they would both die, because they were both pretty well torn up."_

_"Gotta be noisy."_

_"It was very noisy."_

_His childhood was characterized by brutality and violence, inflicted upon him by his father._

_"Were you ever abused?"_

_"Heh, yeah. I don't think that makes much a difference in anything. They were all pretty bad. He, uh, left his mark on me, pretty much._

_"And he did most of that, when you were about… fourteen?" the doctor asked._

_"Yes, when I was young."_

_"And was it worse when he was drinking?"_

_With him, it didn't really matter if he was drinking, or if he wasn't drinking, he was a nasty son of a pig, and he would will be until the day he died."_

_"Did you go to his funeral?"_

_"No, I didn't."_

_"Was there one?"_

_"Yes. I didn't like him in life, why would I want to go see him in death? I was glad he was dead."_

_"How about your mother?"_

_A really long pause. "I don't want to talk about her."_

_"How did you see her as a kid?"_

_"I… I disliked her for a while."_

_As he grew older, he no longer had to suffer his father's brutality. Instead, he chose to inflict his own on others, often, for little or no apparent reason._

_"How much would somebody have to humiliate you until you became obsessed with killing them?" the doctor asked._

_"It would… It would be the degree of how he humiliated me. And it would be the time; it would be how my attitude was. If I were jumpy or edgy, it wouldn't take much. If I was passive, then he might get away with it. I took a guy down when I was just following him around, and he was with a few people. As they went to the bar, he couldn't wait to get inside to urinate. He never did. Everyone went inside, and he stayed outside to urinate. He did it comfortably anyway. I strangled him."_

_"From the behind I assume."_

_"Definitely. I did it in a way, that maybe it wasn't traditional. I don't know, but I put a rope around his neck and I twisted it, and pulled back over my shoulder and held him there. So, I was the tree hanging him, and eventually, he just stopped kicking. I let it loose on one end, he slid down, I put him over by the garbage, and left."_

_"You brought a length of rope with you?"_

_"Ha! No actually, I… Um, this guy, these people had a… well over the bar, they lived upstairs in the apartments, and they had this rope going across. And that's what I took."_

_"__We__'re talking about a clothing line?"_

_"Yeah."_

_"Now what had this guy done to you?"_

_"I didn't like him. He just made me mad, for some reason or other."_

_"Do you remember what his body did while you were hanging him?"_

_"Well, he was twitching and kicking."_

_"How long did it take?"_

_"I don't really know, I didn't look at my watch, and I couldn't really say. Probably kept him a while. Even after he stopped, I just kept him a while to be sure."_

_"Did you have another weapon with you?"_

_"__Yes.__"_

_"But this was quieter?"_

_"It was more personal. I actually felt him die, strung up over my shoulder like that."_

_"Did you like that?"_

_"It didn't do anything. But I did feel him die, I felt him go limp."_

_"And you got your relief?"_

_"Yes. Basically, I had no more pressure, no more tension; it was almost like a stress relief. Unbelievable."_

_From an early age, Stanley had an uncontrollable temper. If he had a problem, he solved it the only way he knew how._

_"I was driving in Georgia one time, and we were riding down the road, and there were a couple of bands around, and they would just roll down their windows and holler, I mean they were just having a good old time, maybe drinking and whatnot. We decided, I guess it was interesting to play with a guy from a different region, and so they started click clacking and pushed here, and pushed me there, off the road, and they were running out. And what their problem was, I really don't know, I never did know. But uh… It came to a point where I got extremely mad about that and… Well, it was silly of me because I was away from home, and I only had one weapon which was in the trunk, which was a 357 with a hand trigger. So I got out of the car. Got out and opened the trunk, and took the 357, and just stood there. Now apparently their eyesight must have been not too good, because I wouldn't walk up to a guy with a 357. But these fellas did. It was a foolish mistake. They all died. And I didn't even know them."_

_"How many guys were there?" the doctor asked._

_"There were a few. I reloaded."_

_"You killed every last one of them?"_

_"Yeah. And that wasn't even when I wanted."_

_"Do you think what they did was a capital offense?"_

_"What do you mean? Like, when they were playing with me? Yeah, they could've killed me. They could have run me off the road."_

_"Reckless driving? That was the capital offense they committed against you?"_

_"Apparently. I did kill them. So to me it must have been. So when I came to that point, that point. That is the last point they come too. I don't back off. I go forward. I go forward, I take a gun, and I do not back off! I didn't know how many they had. I didn't know what they had. They could have had guns. They could have had anything! They wanted to play with me. I didn't want to play. So, we didn't play anymore. I would have taken whatever came! …You almost made me mad."_

_"I know. What made you mad about that?"_

_"I don't know. But you almost did."_

_"Can you figure out what it is?"_

_"__No.__"_

_"Try and look at it. What made you mad there?"_

_"I don't know. I think it must have been something you said."_

_"Yeah?"_

_"Obviously, but I don't know what it was."_

_"Could it have been that when I was questioning you, I was challenging you, and I sounded judgmental?"_

_"Could be. Mm. Yeah could be. Because you've got me annoyed with you now."_

_"Yeah? How mad are you?"_

_"Not bad. Pretty. I feel a little flushed. So that means that I have reached the point in my life when I'm a little annoyed."_

_"What would you like to do?"_

_A shrug. "Doesn't matter. I don't think it's gotten to the point where I'm going to do anything stupid. Just ah, curious to myself, why did it happen? I don't know why it happened. I don't know. Actually, I'm almost glad it did happen, because I had a chance to see something. But I don't know why it happened."_

_"Did you feel I was criticizing you?"_

_"Yeah."_

_"Is that what did it?"_

_"I think so."_

_"Who used to criticize you the most?"_

_"Everyone. When I was little, they all criticized me."_

_"How young were you when you first killed someone?"_

_"I was about seventeen. I recall my first murder for hire. They gave me a picture of him. I tracked him down. I killed him. It was one of my best friends growing up, unfortunately. But, hey, it was my job."_

_"What was his name?"_

_"Mark. I forgot his last name, it's been such a long time since I had last seen him."_

_"Where did you kill him?"_

_Stanley tried massaging his handcuffed hands. "He was my first, so it was basically manipulation that led him to me. It was pretty simple, actually. I invited him over to my house and we partied awhile. I got him tipsy, led him to the kitchen and stabbed him to death. And that was it."_

_"Was it personal?"_

_"Yes, it was personal. What made those murders different from all the others was that I felt something after killing him. It was weird, because nobody else made me feel like that."_

_"Nobody else?"_

_Stanley shook his head, "Nope. Nobody."_

_"Was it because you knew him growing up that it made you feel something?"_

_Stanley sat back and stared at his hands. "Yeah, yeah that was it."_

_"Did you plan to hurt anyone else you knew growing up?"_

_"Yes, yes I did. The ones I hated."_

_"You hated Mark__?__"_

_"I hated everyone."_

_"You didn't like anyone?"_

_"I never really know who's real and who isn't nowadays. For all I know, you're not real, and I could kill you if I wanted to, but I'm not going to, because you look like you're sincerely trying to help me."_

_"That'__s correct.__ Now, did you engage in any sexual activities with your victims?" The doctor asked._

_"Mm..." The man leaned back and closed his eyes. "Yeah... One woman, actually. And I never intended to kill her. I was just bored that night and I saw her walking down the street and I thought, "why not?"_

_"Why did you not want to kill her?" The doctor asked curiously, "What exactly made her so different from the other people? The victims, I mean."_

_Stanley licked his chapped, thin lips. "She never made me angry," he said softly. "There wasn't anything about her that set me off that made me want to do any, like, serious harm unto her. But," he shrugged again and grinned, "I was feeling frisky, so I went for it."_

_"Are you saying that you didn't have a weapon either?"_

_"Oh I did. I had me one of those carving knives," he admitted. "I threatened her if she didn't do as I said."_

_"Alright, do you know how old she was?" The man asked._

_"Pfft. I wasn't too sure about that one. Prob' around nineteen or...seventeen."_

_"Had you seen her around the neighborhood?"_

_"No, I hadn't seen her before."_

_"Unfamiliar, right?"_

_"Yeah, but I heard that the case actually made it to the news. Her name was Beatrice, hm?"_

_"Yes. What else do you know about the case? You know what happened to her?"_

_"Nah... What? Did she...kill herself or something?"_

_"She had a child."_

_There was a silence as the man's eyes widened slightly and he leaned back in his chair. "Huh. Fancy that. Male of female?"_

_"He's male."_

_The man smirked. "Well, how about that."_

Fanboy stared at the screen and lightly touched his father's face. "Daddy..." he whispered_._

_"So he'd be about...eleven right now. So...what's his name?"_

_"I am not permitted to tell you that at the moment due to his safety and privacy," the man said._

_"Hm."_

_"Looks like the hour's up. I think we had a good day today," the man said, looking over his papers. "Thank you for your cooperation."_

_The golden-haired man seemed distracted, staring off into space. _

The cyborg pressed a mechanical finger against the button on the game platform, ending the video. An openmouthed boy sat across from him on the couch, tearing up. He opened his mouth and croaked, "So...that's my dad?"

The cyborg, Dollarnator, sighed unhappily. "Unfortunately, yes. I wanted to tell you, to warn you, because this will be our final conversation." Fanboy jerked his head upward.

"What do you mean, final conversation?"

Dollarnator looked distraught. "I must return to the place from whence I came. Back to the future...movie."

"W-What? He screamed. He sprinted over the machine and collapsed to his knees, tears literally spurting from his eyes. "You're leaving me? Why?"

"I no longer exist Fanboy. Since you pretty much threw away your future, you will never create me. And so I will no longer exist," Dollarnator explained sadly. "Once I leave this time period, I will cease to exist. But I wanted to warn you about you're father, so that you cannot save me, but at least save yourself."

Fanboy hugged the legs of the machine. "Dollarnator!" He screamed. "Don't go! I order you not to go! I ORDER you not to go!" He felt the machine vibrate, and he slowly pulled back to look at the its smiling face. Dollarnator moved a metallic digit over to the boy's reddened face and gently wiped away a tear. "Please…" Fanboy whispered as the hand moved to caress his face. "Please don't leave me here."

Dollarnator moved his arms around the boy and engulfed him in a bone-crushing hug. "I know now why you humans cry," he whispered. Fanboy said nothing, and merely continued to sob. "…Which is something I never could have done…" Fanboy collapsed on the floor and quickly sat up and looked around him. Dollarnator had disappeared into dust. It made sense. Dollarnator visited from a future that no longer existed. Now neither did he.

The young male moved his lanky arms around his knees and began to rock back and forth, back and forth, as his mind tried to absorb everything that had just transpired at once. "I'm ruining everyone's lives," he whispered. "Why? What is wrong with me?"

The picture of his father was still vivid in his mind.

"Daddy..." He whispered. "Am I going to end up like you?" So similar...the hair, the teeth, the face, the eyes... Were they any similar in personality and mental-wise as well? "That must be it then!" Fanboy chuckled. "Of course that's why I'm...different."

Being different stinks.

Several months passed with Fanboy hallucinating images of a smiling sidekick. His mother and Dollarnator were now a part of his hallucinations as well. He played with Chum Chum while Beatrice was distracted. Special games always consisted of his self-abuse, violent and he always ended up gushing blood. He barely took care of himself, and he felt like his body was beginning to rot. All he could smell now was coppery liquid. All he could feel was insanity. Nothing else.

He stumbled around his home, unsure of where to go. He screamed out in rage, his hatred for the world growing all the time. At least, with his mother there, she always hugged him and kissed him and he felt a bit of her love. At night he pressed his bloody body against hers and they cuddled in his bed. He never knew what it felt like to have a mother and he hoped that it was like this.

One night, he had broken down crying because he missed Yo. Instantly, he felt his mother's warm arms wrap around his shoulders and her lips on his cheek, comforting him. "It's all right Sweetie. You're safe, you're safe with me, little one."

He was surviving. The protein he was getting from his own body was strangely appetizing to him. However, after days without real good food and tons of self-induced injuries, he felt his body beginning to shut down. He needed food, and to get food, he needed money. He traveled to the West side of Galaxy Hills, the part of town on the wrong side of the tracks. On the good side of town, nobody would hire him for anything. Everyone here gawked at him, surprised that a little boy such as himself would be there.

Multiple times he had walked around the bad part of town drunk. Many people where he worked gave him the alcohol and laughed when he stumbled about. Others, the older teenage boys, saw his unstableness as an advantage and did...unspeakable things to him while he was out.

This particular work was to give money to the teenagers who were selling Ecstasy. It was obviously dangerous, but he never feared for his life. They gave him the alcohol, and he thought, why not? It made him forget what he was going through and on some days he woke up in alleyways. But the tipsy feelings always passed, and he would always return to the emptiness.

Several months of this passed, and Fanboy was now chocked full of invisible sexually transmitted diseases and alcohol. He became sick so often that he would stay in bed for weeks, without anyone there to take care of him. Only the images in his screwed up mind were there and they were the only things that comforted him, including the drinking. Alcohol was his replacement Frosty Freezy Freeze.

He never truly healed, for love and sanity no longer existed in his mind for what really existed. He now never seemed to feel anything but sadness and loss. His heart had been broken beyond repair; broken to pieces. He clenched at his chest, as if the pain was eating away at his insides. He had been so happy and innocent a year before, and exposure to what he really was inside had destroyed him completely… What was he, really? Not a hero. Not a happy prankster. Just a violent, broken, paranoid animal of a child...

He had seen death. He had seen the light leave the eyes of three people.

After work, he'd curl up in his bed, supposing to be holding Chum Chum's ebony mask to his chest, sobbing unevenly, and mumbling gibberish as the very last rungs of his sanity ladder chipped away. Occasionally, a giggle would escape past his lips. He gripped his golden-brown hair, making weak attempts to pull himself together. He rocked back and forth slowly, smiling a crooked smile when the memories of the good-days lingered in his damaged mind.

He found life unreasonable and merely a waste now. It only kept him from the only family he had ever known. Fanboy, broken on the inside and out, craved love and understanding which he would never receive, without truly realizing that that was what he really needed beforehand, and pushed it away. It was too late now. It was hopeless. He didn't care anymore.

One particular day, Fanboy sat at the kitchen table, alone. For whatever reason, even the hallucinations weren't in his presence. It had been nearly a few months since he had left the mental hospital, a few months since his mother and Yo was shot, a year since Chum Chum had died. Today was supposedly his birthday. Or at least he thought. He wasn't sure of the date.

He hummed incoherently to himself, wrapping his arms around his knees. "Happy Birthday… Happy Birthday to me…" he mumbled, feeling a lump rise in his throat. "I'm twelve. Yep. One more year alone..." He wouldn't have his friends over. He wouldn't have a cake. He wouldn't have anyone sing to him. He wouldn't have a single present much less a decent dinner. He wouldn't have his parents happily hug him, or whisper that he had grown so fast…nothing. He was utterly alone.

He looked up at the ceiling lights, which were now flickering. "Mommy," he whispered, leaning his face onto his knees, "I'm turning something today. I'm almost a teenager." There, of course was no response, no real one at least. He curled up tighter as strange thoughts penetrated his mind. "It's my birthday," he squeaked. He paused as if he were expecting an answer from somebody. He got nothing, and he howled, "It's my BIRTHDAY! SOMEONE SAY SOMETHING!"

…Silence.

The day moved by so slowly, and he only celebrated by stuffing himself with Frosty Freezy Freeze. He lay wasted on the floor of the kitchen, foaming at the mouth. As a splitting headache ruptured him, an idea made itself known.

At first, the idea was too absurd and too disgusting to even think about. Then as the days past and the moon continued its monthly cycle, another veiled voice down profound inside of his psyche considered the sick idea.

If he lived in a world where everyone hated his guts, where he lived unloved, without a future, without friends or family, why live at all? He lived every day hating the world and everyone who inhabited it. He hated his teacher, he hated his classmates for their misunderstanding, he hated the hospital, he hated Blake, and he hated his mother for leaving him. He especially hated Yo for luring him in, for rooting herself to a place in his heart, and then leaving. He even hated Chum Chum, for if he had never existed, these series of unfortunate events would cease to exist.

He hated himself more than anything though. He wished that he had never been born. It would have been better for everyone. Beatrice would not be dead. Blake would not have been dead. Yo would not be dead. Kyle would not have been stressed day after day. If he stayed out of people's lives, things would be better.

He once looked in the mirror at himself and YobnaF forced him to stand there and whisper, "I hate myself. I hate myself. I hate myself," and he did. He never went outside during the day because he hated the sun, knowing he would never fit in with its warmth. He felt only cold spreading throughout him in waves that would never end. They would forever consume his body and mind.

Chapter Redemption-Not Really

Suicide was on the boy's mind consistently. He planned to end it all in one swoop, whether it be from sedatives, slitting his wrists, or simply jumping from his water tower terrace.

The day before he would execute his plan, Oz kept it from happening. He had called the police after hearing the dozens of reports of what was really going on in that water-tower.

He hadn't seen the boy ever since he returned to eat at his house a few days. He thought nothing of it, but his mother seemed to know that something was terribly wrong.

She was sitting at the kitchen table lost in thought as her son prepared dinner. Little Lance had been on her mind ever since he had showed up for dinner that one time with the figure of a skeleton. Even though Lance had assured her that he was fine, she nonetheless haas feeling in her gut that something was wrong.

"Ozzy!" She yelled.

"What, Mother?!" Oz yelled, peering through the doorway from the kitchen.

"You need to go look at see vhat's wrong! Go to Lance," Oz's mother commanded.

Oz rolled his eyes. "Mother!" He whined. "Nothing's wrong. I haven't heard him complain or hear any complaints from the town."

"Exactly!" Oz's mother firmly said, shoving him towards the door. "He has not reappeared. Something is wrong. I can feel it." Oz thought his mother was being a little too over-the-top, but he had to admit that there was a strange air about Fanboy-at least the last time he was seen.

The man never would had expected to see what he saw in that water tower. The self induced pain, the walls stained with human misery and the place reeking of copper. That was enough. Fanboy was going back to a mental hospital.

Oz immediately called 9-1-1.

Fanboy was unstable to such an extreme extent, they had to knock him out with a club to transport him to the place he hated most. He was going back...for good. Well, not for good. But there was a very strong chance that he would never regain sanity again. He spent too many days alone in the dark, too many years isolated from human embrace. That plus his disabled mind left him a shell-shocked lunatic.

Everyone knew he had problems. Everyone was aware of the issues he possessed. But everyone could have cared less. Nobody minded that he was unstable unless it had anything to do with their own lives. Nobody helped. He was going back to a mental hospital. When everyone in town heard the news, they were not shocked. That problem child was nothing new. They pitied him, but not enough to help. As a matter of fact, they were much rather amused by the spectacle as Fanboy was hauled out of his home screaming and crying and into an ambulance.

"...Over in this room, room 130, we have Lance Corporal, diagnosis schizophrenia, reports of psychopathic actions, depression, and we have been reported of his numerous hallucinations, acts of violence, and crimes of self-consuming." A solitary doctor peered into the brightly lit room through a small window in the locked door, searching for this 'Lance'.

Ah, there he was! Curled up, facing a corner, unmoving. "How long has he been stationed here?" the young doctor asked.

The older answered, "About a week. Eight days to be exact. We have multiple unstable patients here, but he seems to be the worst."

The younger one lifted an eyebrow and tousled his own brown hair. "Really? Is that so?" He looked back through the window. The little male seemed very tense, very rigid, and very paranoid. Every little thing startled him. At that moment, the lights flickered, but that was enough to send him scrambling under the bed, whimpering little animal noises of fear. "Was he always like this?"

The other doctor nodded and patted the younger one on the back. "No, not quite, but he has had an extremely troubling past, loss of close relatives, friends, and we're trying to get through to him. He is believed to be responsible for the disappearance of Blake Hartwell, another fellow patient from the last hospital he was transferred to. We seek more information, but he is completely shutting down. We just have to find a way to gain his trust and see from his point of view. We just need his trust."

Indeed, they did need his trust, which was the very thing Fanboy lacked. Trust.

He had completely lost his trust in human beings. The mere sight of one caused his stomach to churn in the most grotesque way and paranoia to overtake his mind, and he would move away as far as he could. If one came too close, he would attack, keeping it from destroying him. He just hated humans. Which seemed silly, because he was one himself, but his way of dealing with the world seemed very animalistic, which made him somewhat less than a human...right?

"How old is he?"

"He is currently eleven years old. I know, it seems very young to be at this sort of state, but believe me, I've talked to this kid, and he has an...extraordinary mind." The young doctor glanced back into the room with concern and watched the boy as he huddled up back in the corner, mumbling chants to himself. "It's going to be all right. We'll get through to him someday. Come, our next patient is in room 310..." The two doctors walked away, leaving Fanboy alone.

In his corner, the former super-fan was on the brink of once again mentally losing it, on the verge of having a breakdown. He was in a special outfit that covered his entire body, and he was currently wearing a muzzle that prevented him from biting himself or anybody else. He had his gloves and shoes without the shoelaces of course. They surprisingly let him keep the mask. Why, were they too disgusted by his ugly face?

Trapped. He was trapped in another hospital. Well, he certainly learned his lesson from last time! He wouldn't let one single person get through to him! He wouldn't trust anybody! He would never let them hurt his little buddy!

Yes, the doctors were in the process of trying to convince Fanboy that Chum Chum was just a hallucination, but Fanboy was having none of that. He had lived with a lie all his life and once he learned the truth, his entire life turned upside down. He was trying to force himself to believe that the lie was true.

He was too wrapped up in his own mind that he saw the doctors as ruthless killing machines, trying to take away the last thing on Earth that he loved. Well, he wouldn't let them!

"I won't let them hurt you little buddy," he whispered, wrapping his arms around a small circular pillow. In his mind, he was tightly hugging his best friend, who gratefully hugged him back.

"Thank you Fanboy! I'm so glad you're a super hero, because if you weren't, who knows what could happen?" Chum Chum said.

"I know," Fanboy whispered, cuddling the pillow tighter, "I won't let them hurt you. I won't let those monsters get you! I promise!" His left eye twitched and a crazy grin etched onto his face. "I promise. I promise I'll protect you. I'll kill anyone who tries to hurt us!"

Anger and insanity struck through the chords of the love and protectiveness in his voice, and he began to growl. For no reason, sane reason for that matter, anger and hatred attacked his mind, and he saw only red.

"I'll kill them! I will!" He said through gritted teeth, his grip severely tightening around the little pillow.

"Ouch! Careful Fanboy! You're hurting me!" the poor pillow cried out. Fanboy paid no attention and continued to squeeze his 'best friend' as his anger rocketed sky-high. His heart beat faster and faster.

_"Kill him_."

"I'll kill them," he growled. "I'll stab them to death! I-I..." He stopped and stared down at the crumpled pillow in his tensed arms. Chum Chum had disappeared.

There was a deathly silence, and out of nowhere, Fanboy screamed and literally chucked the pillow at the wall. It crashed against the bare plaster and fell to the floor with a dead thud, causing the insane figure to twitch.

"Oh..." His fingers clutched the muzzle on his face and yanked at it. He wanted to hurt someone at that moment, to spill blood. Whether it was his own or someone else's. He wasn't keen on the reason why. Nothing made sense anymore to him.

"_Lance_?" He looked up through watery eyes at the sound of the voice. It was a sweet, honey toned voice and vaguely familiar.

"Mama!" He whispered, staring up at the face of his deceased mother. She looked no different than she did the last time he saw her. Literally. That bullet hole was still engraved in her forehead like a bloody carving. She smiled and leaned down to him. He squirmed.

"_Lance, it's alright. I'm right here_," she soothed, wrapping her bloody arms around her son. Her touch seemed to withdraw the little warmth his body possessed and he went cold.

"No you're not," he whispered, tearing up. His whisper was muffled due to the muzzle he wore. Everything else seemed to disappear as his mother leaned in and stroked his tear-painted cheek, mixing the salty liquid with her blood. She gazed into his wild, mistrusting eyes and sighed.

"_Lance, why are you doing such terrible things? I thought you were a good boy! I thought that you were a super hero..."_ she murmured. Fanboy didn't even look at her, ashamed.

"You're not real," he muttered. "You're fake." He thought that maybe if he ignored her long enough, she would go away.

"_Why did you kill Blake?" _

Ignore her. Ignore her. Ignore her.

"_Why did you hurt Yo?_" He didn't mean to cause any harm.

Ignore her. Ignore her.

"_Why did you hurt Chum Chum_?"

It was becoming harder to remain silent. Fanboy's body was so tensed that he began to tremble. Ignore her.

"_Why didn't you protect me?"_

No. No... Fanboy covered his ears with his hands, which was futile, because the voice was in his mind.

"_I died to protect you...Why didn't you try to protect me?"_

"I'm s-sorry, mama," he croaked, tears squeezing through his tightly-closed eyelids. Why couldn't the dream demons just go away? "I-I didn't mean to; I would have protected you if I could. I was scared."

The woman gave the little boy a pitied look. And then, Francine's voice entered his subconscious. "_You aren't a hero you idiot_!"

He jumped onto the voice's suggestion gratefully. "No! No! She's right! I'm not a superhero!" came his whimpered reply. "Now go away and leave me alone!"

_Alone. _The word jumped out at him. Alone. Yes, he decided that he would always be alone, unloved. "Well I don't care!" He announced loudly.

"_You do care. You crave human embrace more than anyone I've ever met,_" the mother whispered in her airy voice.

"I-I..." He swallowed thickly. "I don't want it. I hate people."

...

Day after day passed of repetitive actions, and he began to calm down from a psychotic, cackling nut to a dreary depressed lump. It was normal, the doctors said, for him to have a rhythm in everyday life.

Wake up, take pills, eat a little breakfast, take a shower under supervision, counseling, lunch, therapy, dinner, and then back to bed. It was supposed to help, but to Fanboy, it was just a dull, drab way of living.

A life of sedatives, stares, and voices was not in his favor. He wanted to go home. He wanted his mother. He wanted all his friends to be there, to actually love him, hug him, soothe him, tell him that he wasn't a monster. That he was a good person. That he was loved.

But nobody came. Nobody loved him. And he was a monster. He had proven that himself by attacking Yo those many months ago.

After counseling one day, Fanboy sat alone in a crunched position on a cushioned bench by a barred window in the hallway. Counseling had been rather difficult because the counselor had talked about his mother. There was not a single subject in the world that was more painful to talk about than that. A few tears slipped down his blotchy little face as Chum Chum snuggled beside him. Sunlight streamed through the window.

"I...know...you...I walked with you once upon...a dream," he sang quietly, tracing a finger over the fabric of the drab cushioned seat. It was rare that he had peaceful moments like these. They were moments when Yobnaf's voice didn't deafen his ears, or when lurid images of his mother's death overtook his mind. This was what he wanted his whole life to be like. Just peaceful, in the presence of his best friend.

They didn't speak for the longest time. Fanboy just let the sunlight stream in, warming his face as he stared beyond the barbed fence of the Mental Institution. Surrounding the building was fresh green, a few trees here and there, and a great oak beside the fence. Beyond that fence was Galaxy Hills. Any other direction was just desert and regal purple mountains off into the distance. He ached for freedom, yet at the same time, he longed to remain here, forever in the safe clutches of professionals, protecting others from him.

He closed his emerald eyes, but streams of sunlight still shone through, burning with intensity.

"Fanboy?"

His eyes remained closed, but his hand responded, trailing through the soft strands of chocolate hair that he refused to let go. "Yes, Buddy?"

"Do you still want to die?" It sounded so strange coming from such an innocent voice.

The male sighed and opened his eyes, squinting in the gleam. "Only if you come with me. I wouldn't want to go to Heaven without you."

With the warm sunlight, the drowsiness, and the comfort of death, Fanboy's eyes fluttered, and he fell asleep moments afterward.

He couldn't have slept for more than a few minutes when he felt a hand shaking him awake. "Lance Corporal," a male's deep voice said, "Come with me." Fanboy reluctantly opened his emerald, bloodshot eyes. Above him, a staff member frowned. "Mr. Pandensky informed me that the two of you hadn't a very successful counseling lesson. He tells me that you were coverin' your ears and...er...singing? Says you weren't even looking at him."

Fanboy stayed silent. He hadn't really meant to cause any trouble, but when the psychiatrist had started talking about his mother...

"He tells me that you'll be seeing him again, after dinner, 'kay?" The staff member said. Fanboy barely nodded. "Oh, and he also told me to give you this," the man added, handing the boy some sort of note. Fanboy's frail, spidery fingers slowly reached out and snatched the note. The staff member gave a nod and walked away.

**Dear Mr. Lance Corporal,**

**Gee whiz, lad! Never even gave me a chance to talk to ya, you didn't! If you just come back and give me a chance, I'll be able to tell you done big, big, BIG news! Come on, lil' lad! I'm expecting you at about 7:00!**

**-E.F**

Fanboy groaned and crumpled the letter in his fist.

...

After dinner, Fanboy, led by a staff member, trudged through the halls to the Counselor's office. What could the guy possibly want now? An apology? He sighed as he was ushered through the door.

"Why, hey there!" A cheerful, familiar voice called out. Fanboy tensed as the door was shut behind him. "Well, don't just stand there. Come over here so I can get a better look at ya!" Emerald eyes remained trained to the carpeted ground as Fanboy stiffly took a few steps forward. The man whistled jokingly. "Good lookin' boy!"

Fanboy swallowed and said nothing, noticing the man wore slightly high-heeled polished boots. He heard him get up from what he guessed was a swivel chair. The man put a hand on his back and gently led him to a couch for him to sit on, which was across from the desk. It was then when Fanboy's eyes flickered upward...and he gasped.

"F-Fedora Man...? Elliot!?" He gasped, eyes wide with surprise. "H-How?"

Elliot laughed and tipped his dark green hat. "The same! I got a promotion! Fortunately, they moved me this hospital once they learned that I had been acquainted with you before! Said I had more "experience" with you. Isn't this great, lad?"

Fanboy only stared. The chances of him ever seeing Elliot again was practically the opposite of astronomical! The staff purposely placed him with Elliot? "Um...I-I didn't think that I'd ever see you again..." He muttered, eyes reverting back to the ground. The carpet was thin and hard, a dark maroon color.

Elliot waved his hands. "Ta-da!" He joked, swiftly pulling up a chair across from Fanboy and sat down. "Now, in light of what happened earlier today," he began.

"Stop!" Fanboy snapped, not taking Fedora Man by surprise. "I don't want you talking about my mother."

"No, no, I don't intend to talk about her," Elliot assured him. "I wanted to tell you about your new room."

"M-My room?"

"Lance," Fedora Man said in a serious tone, "do you miss being with your friends?"

Fanboy squinted his emerald eyes in confusion. "Y-Yeah," he stammered, "So what?" He was already feeling uncomfortable. His fingers traced the soft fuzzy fabric of the couch.

"Do you...want love?" He asked.

The boy stared at the carpet, pretending it was the most interesting thing he'd ever seen. "No," he said flatly. "I-I hate it." That was a lie. He brought up his knees and wrapped his arms around them, cursing the muzzle he wore. Just hearing the word "love" caused anger to flare up inside of him. So many times had he cursed the word while seething with rage, wishing it never existed. That way, no one could have it.

Fedora Man nodded slowly. "Mm. Tell me, are you ever lonely?"

The question made the male's heart clench. He was practically the Boo Radley of this forsaken world, but of course, he never would admit it. "U-Um...n-..." He buried his face in his knees again. Every day since the day he was born, he craved affection. Affection that he would never receive. His heart ached for human embrace. He was so alone that isolation caused his mind to snap, and it conjured him a best friend and adventures to experience. And being trapped in a cell 24/7 with nobody to talk to certainly didn't help. His eyes began to tear up. "A-A little." He whispered, hiding his face behind his knees.

"How long did you live alone?"

Ever since preschool when he escaped the orphanage. "Since I-I was f-four," he answered, glad that Elliot had steered clear of his mother as a subject.

"You know, I saw you talking to him," Elliot smiled, placing a hand on Fanboy's knob of a knee. The boy yelped and jerked his body away on instinct. The man's smile faded. "Tell me about Chum Chum. That is his name, right?"

"...Yeah," Fanboy said, shifting to the far end of the couch. "He...You mean, what does he look like?"

"You can draw me a picture of that!" Elliot said, whipping out a price of paper and a pencil. "Just tell me what his personality is like."

This followed a two-hour session of Fanboy explaining to Fedora Man just who Chum Chum was. What his favorite drink was (Frosty Freezy Freeze) favorite color (orange) what type of toothpaste he loved (citrus) what his favorite breakfast was (pancakes) and that Yo always chased him, and that he was the best sidekick ever, and...and...

At the end, Elliot had two whole pages of notes, and Fanboy drew him a fairly respectable picture of what Chum Chum looked like. Fedora Man examined it, smiling, and then asked him many more questions about his feelings.

"Why did you first attack Yo?" He asked, knowing that this particular question would cause some sparks. "As it specifically says here," he stated, looking at a parchment, "you attempted to strangle her-she stabbed you twice with a kitchen knife-why did you attack her in the first place?"

Fanboy's face grew dark, and Elliot tensed in regard of the danger signals. "I've heard you two have had a...strenuous relationship."

"I'm a monster," Fanboy said simply.

"A monster? What do you mean?"

"I just am. I mean, she said she loved me. She said she cared about me. And she doesn't. Because I'm a monster," he said. He wasn't sure if that question didn't have any significance to it, but Fedora Man was nodding and smiling.

"Well, I think we had a much better time than the last session, eh?" He asked, slapping Fanboy on the back, much to his dismay. "Now, as to your new room, you will be placed in an environment more suitable to your liking."

Fanboy raised an eyebrow. "My liking?"

Fedora Man then lowered his voice. "We're also giving you what I like to call a "relief mother"." The boy stiffened at this. A relief mother? "Her name is Pam, and she said that you would know who she was."

Pam?! He let out a choking sound and sniffed. "Y-You don't mean," he whispered, eyes trained to the ground, "...you don't mean Nurse Lady Pam, do you?"

"The very same! She's going to-" he paused and then smiled. "Never mind. You'll find out soon enough, lil' lad."

Fanboy didn't know, but the doctors rather would have him with a motherly figure than being by himself in a small, confined room. The idea was for him to experience the love he never truly had. He needed security, closure, affection. Nurse Lady Pam was a woman who could offer him all three. They found out, after many interviews and questioning, that his past actions might have masked not an angry child, but a rather weakened, small, terrified human being.

"Thank you...Mr. Pandensky."

...

"The central tenet of maternal deprivation theory—that children's experiences of interpersonal relationships are crucial to their psychological development and that the formation of an ongoing relationship with the child is as important a part of parenting as the provision of experiences, discipline and child care—has become generally accepted," a doctor had informed Nurse Lady Pam when she volunteered to be a relief mother.

"Lance Corporal suffers from Schizophrenia, and well as Maternal Deprivation," he continued, "We used to think it was just depression, but we've narrowed it down after learning much more about his past. Maternal Deprivation is a discrete syndrome; it is not a concept that is much in current use other than in relation to severe deprivation as in "failure to thrive"," he said, making air quotes.

"In the area of early relationships, it has largely been superseded by the attachment theory and other theories relating to even earlier infant–parent interactions. As a concept, parental deficiencies are seen as a vulnerability factor for, rather than a direct cause of, later difficulties. In relation to institutional care there has been a great deal of subsequent research on the individual elements of privation, deprivation, under stimulation and deficiencies that may arise from institutional should know," the doctor had said to Pam, "that this is NOT an angry child we are dealing with. This is a scared, helpless person who hasn't a single person in his life, at least not for an adequate period of time. When he met his real mother after so many years, it came too quickly, and it seemed to have shocked him. Especially since Ms. Corporal passed away, so don't just rush into it immediately. Be patient and give it time."

She, of course, agreed determinedly. "I've always been patient with little children. They trust me after awhile, and I believe I have what it takes to get him to trust me. But are you sure he's...stable?" She said uncomfortably with the knowledge of his past actions.

"He's stable enough. But you must know, Maternal Abandonment leaves the children to deal with significant emotional, mental, and psychological aftereffects. Now, a mother doesn't have to pack her bags and physically leave the house in order to abandon her children. It can take place emotionally and psychologically, as she withdraws, either because of her own childhood issues or from other mental health issues. In this case the mother did leave him physically, and he might have already shown signs of his developing schizophrenia by the looks of it."

Nurse Lady Pam thought back to the time when she had first arrived at Galaxy Hills Elementary, and she first had met Fanboy. She had seen him talking to...nobody. He was fighting with...nobody.

"What do I do if he starts talking to...someone in his mind?" She asked carefully. "Will it be a problem if I try to detach him from his dreamworld? He isn't violent anymore, is he?"

"I suggest you do it carefully. People with schizophrenia are not usually violent," the doctor said slowly. "In fact, most violent crimes are not committed by people with schizophrenia. However, some symptoms are associated with violence, such as delusions of persecution. If a person with schizophrenia becomes violent, the violence is usually directed at family members and tends to take place at home. To be perfectly clear: it _is_ a problem, but he is getting better. He is progressing. Now, if something doesn't go according to plan, there are security cameras, he wears a muzzle-"

"A MUZZLE!?" She thought in surprise. What could he have possibly done for the doctors to find it essential that he had to wear a muzzle? Out loud, she said, "I'll see what I can do."

"Excellent," the doctor had said, smiling. "The main thing we need you to do is for him to grow attached to you so he can experience human embrace and most importantly: a sense of belonging. That's most essential in a child's life, and unfortunately, he missed that part of his life. You understand?"

"Okay," Nurse Lady Pam said, nodding slowly. "I understand perfectly."

"Again, don't rush into it. Let him come to YOU," he advised. "In the end we hope you can soften him up and gain trust in others. Only then may he start to heal."

"Hm... What exactly are we aiming to heal here? His schizophrenia? Maternal Deprivation?"

"His Maternal Deprivation itself is the big cause, we believe, of his schizophrenia. He has never really had the chance to associate with actual people. He rather would talk to voices in his head, things he thinks he sees."

"Yeah, that's true," Pam shrugged. "How do I know when he's hallucinating? Heh, I just want to get everything down when I go in there so I'm prepared."

"You will probably see some stiff, repetitive movements whether it be the rubbing of the hands or clenching of the fists, or even some uncomfortable shifting. That is, if he hears voices. Now, if he is hallucinating, usually he will be staring at a lone spot with wide eyes. It's very simple to recognize," the doctor assured her.

"Is he...resistant?"

"People with schizophrenia often resist treatment," the doctor said, "They may not think they need help because they believe their delusions or hallucinations are real. In these cases, family and friends may need to take action to keep their loved one safe. Laws vary from state to state, and it can be difficult to force a person with a mental disorder into treatment or hospitalization. But when a person becomes dangerous to himself or herself, or to others, family members or friends may have to call the police to take their loved one to the hospital."

"Okay, and what does he actually see when he hallucinates?"

"See, hallucinations are things a person sees, hears, smells, or feels that no one else can see, hear, smell, or feel. "Voices" are the most common type of hallucination in schizophrenia. Many people with the disorder hear voices. The voices may talk to the person about his or her behavior, order the person to do things, or warn the person of danger. Sometimes the voices talk to each other. Lance had a best friend who always talked to him. Unfortunately, the friend was just another hallucination."

...

Fanboy quickly grabbed his costume from the small locker he and the other patients kept their personal belongings. Led by a staff member, he trudged to the new room where he would be staying. "Here we are," the staff member said cheerfully, unlocking the door and pushing it open. "You're new room for the time being."

It was like stepping into the next life. Pale blue walls with a few posters of comic book heroes here and there, a sleek, queen-sized mahogany bed with dark blue covers, a nightstand with a lamp, a medium sized bookshelf with books, a tiny trunk with a few gadgets, and instead of the cold concrete floor of his previous room, this one had a grey, thick shag carpet. On the left side of his bed, there was a small window with very thick glass that showed the outside world.

This was not a cell. It didn't even seem like he was in a Hospital. It looked like the room of any normal boy. He stood still, not sure of what to do. The staff member said, "Make yourself at home!" And he shut the door and locked it.

The first thing Fanboy did was take off the blasted hospital gown. Ugh. He hated the thing. He tossed it to the carpet and lightly kicked it under the bed. He shivered for a moment, exposed, relishing in the cool air and closed his eyes. The rosy glow of the single lamp gave the room a cozy, comforting atmosphere. He walked over to the bed and dragged a finger over the soft covers before hopping on and crawling underneath them like he was making a burrow. The soft blankets covered him like a cocoon. It wasn't like his old bed from the Fanlair, but it was far better than his old hospital bed.

He sighed and rubbed his eyes, feeling a lot better as fatigue fogged his mind. He silently closed his emerald eyes...and fell asleep in comfort. But not for long.

"_Hey, don't think I wouldn't come back just because you had so many distractions today," YobnaF sneered, digging his sharp fingernails into his counterpart's shoulder. The boy shuddered and jerked away from the decrepit, ghastly figure._

_"Leave me alone!" He yelled, "Good God, I landed myself in a Mental Hospital for the second time! My mom is dead, my friends are dead, and I'm nearly dead myself! What more do you want from me, you demon?!"_

_YobnaF smiled a sick smile and said, "I want you to let out your anger, Fanboy."_

_"I...I'm not angry."_

_"Yeah?"_

_"Yeah."_

_YobnaF scoffed, "Stupid boy. You're mad. You're crazy. And if you think for a moment that I'll be leaving you alone, you're only fooling yourself."_

_"Why? Why don't you leave me alone?" Fanboy whimpered, backing away. "Can't you see that you're not wanted?"_

_"Oh-ho! Stupid moron, I can't ever leave you." _

_"Why?!"_

_YobnaF made a dramatic pause and sneered, "Because I AM you." His spidery, bloody fingers reached out and gently touched Fanboy's shocked face. "It truly is amazing how similar we are."_

_Fanboy slapped the other male's hand away with great disgust. "No...no. I'm nothing like you. You-!" He faltered for a moment, a pointing finger went limp. "You're the angry one! You're scared of everyone so your motive is to get everyone before they get you."_

_"Interesting analysis. But do I truly? Funny that you should say, since you attacked people and managed to kill Blake."_

_The boy's stomach lurched at the mention of Blake's name. "...It was an accident." Fanboy murmured, tearing up. "I never meant to."_

_..._


	18. Chapter 18

_**Chapter Eighteen**_

Fanboy woke up rather late that morning, comforted by the soft blankets that cocooned him. In truth, he rather enjoyed this room. He felt like an actual person in a normal room, in a normal house. If he had woken up here for the first time without knowing he was in a hospital, he would've never guessed. Rubbing his emerald eyes, he sat up and, stretched, and yawned.

A ray of sunlight streamed through the small window, leaving patch of light on the shag carpeting. He smirked and settled back down before remembering that he was assigned a Relief Mother. Wow... He wasn't entirely sure what they were going to do but Elliot had told him that it was essential.

Suddenly, the alarm clock on the bedside table let out a beep. He looked at it. "9:30? Usually they make me get up at 7:30!" He wondered, "I wonder why they let me sleep in..." He shrugged and hopped out of bed, grabbing his costume and putting it on quickly, which was rather difficult because of the muzzle. But it was well worth it. He wouldn't want the Relief Mother to walk in on him while he was completely naked.

He waited for awhile after that, waiting for her to show up, waiting for the locked door to unlock. ...It wasn't as if he were looking forward to meeting her, but he didn't have anything else to look forward to in such a long time. Fortunately, he didn't have to wait very long because Nurse Lady Pam entered his room no more than 10 minutes later with a big smile on her face.

He blinked. She hadn't changed a bit.

"Nice to see you again, little superhero!" She enunciated, gently shaking his lithe gloved hand. He was surprised because he expected her to enter with caution just like everybody else. But no, she entered with a war, inviting air, as if he wouldn't do anything to her. Like he was a normal person.

"Hi..." he mumbled, not ready exactly to give her his full commitment to this task.

She smiled. "How're you feeling, honey?" She tried not to take notice of the muzzle that covered his jaw.

He gave her a half-shrug in response and his dull emerald eyes stayed glued to the ground.

"Okay?"

Not even a shrug.

"So-so?"

Nothing.

"I thought maybe we should get to know each other. Play a game or...? That sound okay?" She asked, keeping a cheerful tone.

"No thanks," he said quietly, backing away. Playing games... It reminded him of the Ice-Breaking circles his mother would host.

"You sure?" She asked. "I thought you liked games."

He nodded, "Mmhm." And climbed into his bed again. This was making him nervous. "I wanna go to sleep again. That's all."

"Okay. You go ahead and do that; I'm just going to read a book, okay?" She didn't wait for an answer and took a seat in the large rocking armchair in the corner of the room. She picked up a comic book from the floor and began to read it. Fanboy watched her carefully, but she made no suspicious movement.

Slowly, he covered himself with the covers, but leaving a little parting so he could keep an eye on her if he should come to it. He could feel her stare burning into the blanket. Face scarlet, he closed the parting in the bed covers and tried to go to sleep again. But just knowing that she was there made it very hard to do. It felt like someone was just breathing over him at all times, watching, and he couldn't do anything about it.

"Hng. Oh, alright," he huffed, throwing the covers off of him. "What do you wanna do?" He spat, not looking her in the eye.

She ignored his attitude. "Eye-Spy?" She suggested.

His enthusiasm barely matched hers. "M-Kay."

"Alright." She gently tossed the comic to the floor and asked him, "Would you like to go first?" He shot her a look that clearly said, "_Don't talk to me."_

"Alllllrighty then. I'll go first." She tapped her chin with one finger and looked around the room. "Hmm...IIIIII Spyyyyyy...something...black."

Fanboy said nothing in answer, but just pointed to the shag carpet on the floor with a limp finger. She nodded and grinned.

Fanboy had a mind to tell her that the shag carpet was the only thing in the entire room that was black, but he refrained from doing so, not wanting to speak to her.

"...It's your turn now sweetie."

He glared at her and sighed, lazily looking around. He wasn't sure what triggered the next thing that happened. It was out of nowhere, unexpected and it caught him totally off-guard. To his shock, Chum Chum appeared right in the middle of the room, clear as day. Orange and yellow costume, black gloves, masks and shoes. Brown hair. More hallucinations. They had begun. "Orange," he whispered without thinking, completely focused on his little buddy at that moment.

Why was he hallucinating now? Mostly, the hallucinations appeared when humans were absent. When he was alone and had nobody to speak to. Like most of his life.

"Orange?" Nurse Lady Pam made a quick scan of the room, but saw nothing of the sort. She looked back at Fanboy with confusion, but he was in some sort of wide-eyed trance. He looked as if he were in another world. "Lance?"

He answered not, mumbling things under his breath as he rigidly sat unblinking. Pam slowly got up from her chair and hurried to his side. "Honey? C'mon, talk to me." She took his cold, rigid gloved hand in her own and stroked it with a thumb.

"_Hi Fanboy!" _Chum Chum_. "You know, you don't look so good_."

"Bud..." Fanboy whispered.

"Sweetie? It's alright...It's alright. Come back to me, please..." Pam gently whispered.

And then, his hallucinations became unnecessarily violent, "_Get out of here, you little mutant_!" YobnaF appeared, pulled a knife out and stabbed Chum Chum in the chest. Blood spurted everywhere, on the walls, floor, ceiling, and on Fanboy himself.

Fanboy gasped, the color draining away from his face as he struggled to scream. He covered his ears with both hands, as if that were to block YobnaF's hollow voice.

"Lance? Lance!" Pam cried, tugging at his rigid body. "Snap out of it!" He couldn't even hear her voice anymore; it was drowned out by the evil male. He had floated to the ceiling, cackling hysterically after licking the now blood coated knife, relishing in the copper flavor.

"_Enjoying the show?!" _He screamed, smiling widely, pressing his tongue much too harshly against the blade, causing it to split in half_._

"N-No. No! _Please_! Go _away_-!" He stopped, emerald eyes still staring at that one spot, but now line of sight was drifting up higher and higher towards the ceiling. In his mind, he saw YobnaF, who was waving slowly, an evil grin on his bloody face, pupils like needle points. Fanboy was now so terrified that he started to dribble.

"_Helloooo, freak!"_ He laughed hysterically. Still hooting, he flew from one end of the room towards the shivering male, who was covering his ears and now wailing. "_Freak! Freak! FREEAAAK!_

"Nononononononono! Go away, go away, GO _AWAY_!" He screamed as YobnaF dived toward him with his arms outstretched. The cold, spidery fingers wrapped around Fanboy's neck and began to squeeze. "IT'S GOT ME!" Fanboy screamed, when really it was just Nurse Lady Pam trying to help him while his own hands raked at his neck.

Overwhelmed by all that was transpiring, Fanboy collapsed, shaking and nearly drifted off. "GET HIM OFF GET HIM OFF GET HIM OFF ME!" He screeched as Yobnaf's handgrip grew tighter. "GET HIM-**EECH**!" Fanboy began to wretch, mentally losing his voice.

A white noise filled his ears while the male in front of him howled hysterically. The deranged male began to hyperventilate as it became too much for him. He felt dizzy and the room around him was a blur. The only clear thing was YobnaF, who's face literally began to rot as his smile grew wider and wider and wider. The skin at his jawline tore, but his smile went wider and wider, his handgrip getting tighter and tighter-

Suddenly, it all disappeared. YobnaF disappeared in an instant and Fanboy felt himself in the arms of Nurse Lady Pam. His face was buried in her stomach, his tear-painted face wetting her shirt. He continued to hyperventilate, clawing at her bare arms as she tried to calm him down.

"It isn't real, Lance. It isn't real!" She assured him. "Look at me. Lance, look at me!" He felt her hand maneuver its way under his chin, and she tilted his head upward to face her.

Her heart nearly broke upon seeing his face. He looked so broken. Emerald eyes were now bloodshot and glassy, cheeks tear-painted and scarlet, nose runny, muzzle covering his entire jawline. Everything about him spoke misery; especially his eyes, she noted. Those beautiful emerald irises that had watched his friend and his own mother die, those eyes that saw a different world, a different life, those eyes that had hysterically shed tears day after day. Those eyes that had seen no affection, no love, no nothing, now watched her.

She slowly let him fall back into her stomach, his crying out of her control. "I WANT MY M-MAMA!" He screamed. "I WANT MY MAMA! I WANT MY D-DADDY!"

All Nurse Lady Pam could do was cradle him while he cried for his absent parents. "MAMAAAAA!"

He calmed down a few hours later in her arms, his crying now reduced to soft whimpering. His heart was pounding in his chest and his entire body was drenched in sweat. His emerald eyes darted this way and that before he groaned and attempted to sit up on his own but failed.

"Feeling better?" Pam asked softly, looking down at him as she gently pressed her hand against his cheek. His head lay comfortably on her lap and his eyes flickered up to her. "You gave me quite a scare."

He suddenly remembered. "I-I-I d-don't k-know h-how m-much longer I c-can do this!" He whimpered, struggling to get out of her grip. He looked around wildly for his imaginings through those large, emerald eyes.

"It's not real, Lance," she assured him in a tone that made if sound like he should have already been aware. "You know that, right?"

He held his head in his gloved hands and didn't answer her question. "Do you...want to talk about it?"

"_NO_." He flat out said, his stuttering seemingly have disappeared, "I am DONE with _therapy_."

"Okay," she agreed quickly, before remembering that his mother had been a therapist. "Do you want to talk about something else? It can be anything."

He was silent for the longest time. "I dunno." He reached up and touched the blocky muzzle and sighed. "How come I gotta wear this?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. I think you know the answer to that, don't you?" She asked, putting an arm around him.

"Ngh," he grunted, pulling away from her. "I don't want you to touch me, got it?" He snapped, wrapping his arms around himself as a shield, he glared with distrust. "I know you're going to hurt me sooner or later," he accused, even though he'd been the one to cry in her arms.

"I'm not going to hurt you if that's what you're afraid of," she protested, but then remembered what the doctor said. That she should let Fanboy come to her. Well, if that was the case, this process would probably take a year.

She then nodded. "Okay, no touching," she agreed. "Then let's talk instead."

"I. Don't. Want. TO TALK!" He yelled through his gritted teeth, his mind once again quickly climbing towards rage. Something inside him snapped. He then stood up on the bed while she stared, shocked. "How many times do I have to say it?! I don't want to talk about myself! You people are all the same! Ugh! You think that if I talk, things will get better, but they won't! Things will never, EVER get better-EVER! My mom will NEVER COME BACK! YOU HEAR? YO WILL NEVER COME BACK! CHUM CHUM WILL KEEP DYING OVER AND OVER AND OVER!" He wailed in agony.

"And YOU!" He jabbed his pointer finger in her face. "I know what you're trying to do. You're trying to get close to me so you can get those doctors closer! So they can STUFF ME WITH SEDATIVES UNTIL I DIE FROM OVERDOSE!" He paused, looking over at the woman who now had a trembling hand over her mouth, her eyes gazing at him with somewhat of a look of fear. He slumped over and plopped back down on the bed. It was silent for a while, until his head tilted back up and she saw tears in his eyes.

"L-Lance..." She began, but trailed off and tried again. "I-I never meant to...upset you. I never meant to hurt your feelings," she said softly.

He seemed to be in a daze. "What is wrong with me?" He whispered, more to himself than her. She swallowed thickly. "What. Is WRONG with me?!" This time, directed at her. He began to pant as he made a futile attempt to hold in his sobs. "I don't know why I feel s-so horrible, a-an' why I-I yell a-all the time! I-I wanna go home...!" He squeaked, wrapping his arms himself and bowing his head. "I wanna...I-I want..."

The next thing he felt were her arms gently pulling him into her lap, his head resting against her chest, her chin resting on the top of his head. He bit his lip as his heart jumped at her touch and he struggled to get away. "What do you want, Lance?" He froze.

"I-I...I..." Suddenly, his heart seemed to explode in the most horrible feeling as he cried out to the cruel, unforgiving world. "I WANT MY MAMA!" He cried, "I WANT MY MAMA!"

"I know, Sweetie. Shhhhhhhh, calm down," she soothed, and he froze, still crying. She sounded exactly like his mother. "That's why your here. Everyone is here to make you feel better, you understand?"

"I-I-I'm trying, I am!" He cried, his tears wetting her white shirt. With a trembly gloved hand, he gripped her waist and held tight. Slowly, she began to rock back and forth and she sighed. "I want my mama!" He cried again, burying his face in her stomach. "I want my mama!"

"I know, sweetheart. I know it's hard," she whispered, tearing up a bit herself at this miserable sight. "I know you want your mother... I wish there was something I could do for you to make you feel better."

Oh, what could he possibly want now? There was nothing she get him! Every person he ever loved was dead. His future was uncertain, probably going to be in this hospital for the rest of his life... "There isn't _anything_..." He trailed off and sniffed, loosening his grip on her waist, and looked up at her through runny eyes. There was absolutely nothing that she could do since his mother was gone and his father... Wait, his father?

"Um. Actually..." He had a faint idea about what he wanted, but was afraid to speak of it. Such a idea would surely cause some controversy. But then again, she asked him what would possibly make him feel better. He looked down again, scarlet in the face. "I wanna meet my daddy."

Nurse Lady Pam's heart nearly stopped at this statement. Being so close, Fanboy felt her go rigid and he sighed. "I-I know my daddy is bad. I understand. But...I-I don't know. I just wanna see him." The truth was he wanted to restore some biological connection, but who in their right mind would agree to that?

"H-How did you even know about...your father?" The woman asked slowly.

Fanboy had started to cry once more, tears dribbling down his face which added layers to the already tear-painted flesh. "Please?! I wanna see him!"

"I-I'm sure we can work something out," she promised, forcing a smile. "Why do you want to see your daddy?"

The child wiped his eyes and answered, "I never got the chance to meet him. I never..." He cleared his throat, "I never got to...oh, I don't know." He hung his head, the idea of ever meeting his daddy crushed.

"His name is Stanley," Nurse Lady Pam said quietly, hesitating a great deal before continuing with, "and...he's here. In this hospital."

Fanboy's head snapped up, a gleam of fear and somewhat excitement in his eyes. "What?! Really?!"

"Yes, he's in a cell. He pled to insanity and...and of you want to meet him that bad, I'm sure we can arrange some sort of-!" She was cut off by his arms wrapping around her waist, him crying her name in thanks happily.

"Oh thank you thank thank you thank you thank you!" He cried happily. Nurse Lady Pam chuckled nervously and patted his back.

"You're welcome," her eyes darted from left to right behind her large glasses as if someone might have heard. She sighed.

"U-Um...Nurse Lady Pam?" He whispered, looking up at her, his face ridden with shame. "I never s-said sorry. A-About the knife thingy. ..In your office?" The woman squinted, at first not understanding what he meant, but her look softened as the memory dawned on her.

"Ah," she said calmly. "I remember that." Fanboy bit his lip. "That's alright. Sometimes it's hard to control yourself when you're angry, isn't it?"

He shook his head. "Am I going to be like this forever?" He asked tearfully, wiping his eyes.

"I doubt it," the woman promised, "But it takes a while to heal. If you don't feel better soon, don't worry, because everyone heals in a different way, a different pace." She smiled at him and gently wiped away one of his tears with her thumb. "You're life is very precious, Lance. Remember that."

When had he heard her say that before? "Thank you," he said, managing a tiny grin. "I wish I wasn't born like this though," he added, and what little smile he had faded slightly.

"If you were born like this, it isn't your fault," the woman said, caressing his face. "It isn't."

"No?" He asked in surprise, like he had really thought his mental disorder was there by choice.

"Of course not! That's why your here; in a place where we can help you get better. Soon, you can go back to school-" she chuckled as Fanboy made a face, "-and you can play outside, go to the Frosty Mart..." She trailed off and held his gloved hands warmly. "You'll be alright. So, Superboy, tell me, what was your mother like?"

Fanboy tensed, expecting himself to explode in anger, but oddly enough, only a faint throbbing sensation erupted in his heart, and he sighed. "She...She was really pretty."

Nurse Lady Pam waited patient for him to go on. "My mommy...she, uh...she acted like I wasn't crazy or anything. Like...Like she acted as if I was normal, you know? She was really nice and sweet-kinda reminds me of you now that I think about it," he said in wonder, staring up at her. "You look like her. You talk to me like her."

"Do I?" Nurse Lady Pam asked, pretending to be shocked, when really she knew that was coming. He compared the two because the way his mother would speak to him was in a motherly speech. Nurse Lady Pam was also talking to him in a motherly speech, and since he had never really experienced motherly affection enough, he could compare anyone who talked to him like that. "Beatrice was always such a nice girl."

"Yeah, she-wait." He paused, processing her words. "Did you know her?"

"Oh, I knew her alright," the woman said, chuckling at the perplexed look on the young male's face. "Beatrice and I, we go a long way back. Man, I remember how excited she was, calling to tell me she had found her child. I took it upon myself to become your relief mother once I found she'd...passed away, and then...it was you." She smiled and took the boy up in her arms again. "I made a promise to her. That I'd take care of her little boy."

"I'm glad you did," Fanboy said gratefully, finally smiling a real smile. It was like his entire face transformed. His dull, emerald eyes lit up, his shiny teeth gleaming; he looked happy, which was a big deal for him. "You know...When you first came to my school, I sorta had a crush on you." He blushed.

"Oh?"

"Yeah, but I'm glad you're here now. Or I would be all alone. With my...um...imaginary friends."

"Well," Nurse Lady Pam quickly said, changing the subject, "How would you like to meet your daddy?"


	19. Chapter 19

_**Chapter Nineteen**_

Fanboy was extremely nervous, his heart pounded with each step he took that led to the room where he would finally meet his father for the first time. He wasn't sure what he would get out of it, but he just needed to see, he needed to meet the man. He needed to tell him how he felt about the rape, his own abandonment, his..._everything_.

His Relief Mother accompanied him all the way to the door, her hand on his shoulder, and they entered a large room. Prisoners dressed in orange sat behind glass windows, talking through hooked telephones, the visitors sitting on the opposite side of the glass, also speaking through the telephones.

Fanboy swallowed hard. "I-I can't move," he whispered hoarsely, his feet practically rooted to the ground. The color in his face began to fade away, leaving it even more paler than it already was. His stomach began to churn as he realize the gravity of the situation he was in, and what might become of it.

Nurse Lady Pam gave him a sympathetic look and caressed his shoulder. "Do you want me to be next to you?" She asked, knowing that this was nerve wracking for the young male. The least she could do was be by his side as he was speaking to the man.

The boy considered the possibility for a moment, but then realized that this was a feat he had to accomplish without the assistance of any outsiders. "No. Thank you, but I wanna do it by myself," he said. "I-I just..." He sighed and looked up at her with a pleading gaze in his emerald eyes. "Just please, let me meet him alone."

"As you wish," she said softly, gently directing the boy to the small place where he would finally meet his father. It was almost like a small cubicle, two walls on either side of the boy, blocking the view from anyone on the outside. He stared through the glass in front of him to the room on the other side. "Stanley will be out shortly, so you just relax here, and I'll go get him for you." Nurse Lady Pam informed him briskly, yet wary about what might come of this meeting.

So there Fanboy sat, nearly chewing his fingernails to the nubs-if he didn't wear gloves. For the occasion, he'd temporarily taken his cowl off, fully exposing his face. For some reason, he wanted his father to see the real him, not the Fanboy he'd become. Just Lance. He wanted his father to see what his son had become.

His bit his lip as he noticed a man trudging into the room on the other side of the glass and sat down, picking up the phone. Fanboy could only stare. It was like looking into an honest-to-God mirror, only the man before him was older. The same sparkling emerald eyes, the same golden-brown hair, the same teeth.

The man, named Stanley, looked back at him, a look of awe on his face, and said something into the phone.

Heart hammering beyond belief, Fanboy snatched the phone and gasped into the receiver. "H-Hello?" He squeaked, cursing himself for sounding so nervous.

"Hello," the man greeted calmly. "How're you?"

How was he? He was just meeting his _father _for the first time! "U-Uh, I'm fine," the young male stuttered, feeling his stomach churn in the most grotesque way.

"Good," the man smirked slightly, and Fanboy noticed his identical buck teeth with dismay. "What might your name be?"

"It's..." He paused, wondering if he should answer as Fanboy or Lance. "L-Lance."

"Oh, well, nice to meet you, Lance. My name is Stanley," the golden-haired man said, his smirk growing wider. Fanboy seemed to shrink under the older male's perpetrating gaze through his matching emerald eyes. "You're a regular chip off the old block, you know that?"

"Only physically," Fanboy replied cooly, masking his nervousness.

The man's eyes twitched, "So, you're a mama's boy, aren't you? Honestly, I'm surprised. You'd think that a boy would turn out like his father psychologically."

Psychologically? "What, did you expect me to turn out a murderer like yourself?" Fanboy snapped lightly.

The man smirked. "I suppose. I've thought that, yessiree. You know, I didn't hear much about you, even though you're technically my son. If you hadn't come to me first, I might've never met you." He threw his head back and chuckled. "I told them you wouldn't be able to resist."

Fanboy bristled. Resist? "What do you mean resist?" He asked.

"Even though I've committed numerous crimes," the man explained, "you still've come to me." He seemed to be proud of that. "So, tell me Lance, how is your mother?"

Fanboy swallowed hard, trying to hold in the sudden anger that invaded his mind. "What do you care?" He spat loudly, causing the man to jerk his head away from the receiver.

"What do I care? Well, she's the one who gave birth to my son, who is you. So, I ask again, how is she?" Stanley asked again.

"She...She's dead!" Fanboy muttered, averting his eyes from the man's piercing gaze. "Someone killed her right in front of me. Something you coulda done yourself. Happy now?"

A flicker of what might have been disappointment spread across the man's face, but then reverted back to its usual smirk. "Dead?" The man repeated in surprise, his eyebrows raising in slight shock. "Well. I'm sorry about that. I kinda wanted to meet her."

It was too much for the boy. "Sorry?! SORRY?!" He yelled. "How can YOU be sorry!? You killed over a hundred people and only now you feel sorry for someone?! You're sick!" He finished with flourish, grinding his teeth in anger.

Stanley opened and closed his mouth a few times before smiling widely, saying rather eerily. "Oh, _there's_ the boy I wanted to know."

Fanboy began to sputter and the man said quickly, "Let's change the subject. Say, what are you doing at a place like this?" He looked over the boy's clothes. "I see you wear patients' clothes. You wouldn't happen to live here, do you?"

Now it was Fanboy's turn to stutter. "I-I-I..."

"Why are you here? Turning out like your old man, huh?" There was a certain mocking tone in the man's voice.

"I'll have you know that I've been diagnosed with schizophrenia," Fanboy snapped, nose in the air.

"Congratulations."

The young male turned beet red and clenched the phone so tightly in his hand that it nearly splintered to pieces. "I doubt you even know what schizophrenia is!" He growled.

"Gettin' feisty, aren't we? Don't worry, keep that up and everyone will know what a sick, sick little boy you are," Stanley laughed with mockery. "You're not one to call me sick, mister I'm-a-freak-in-a-mental-institution. Hypocritical."

"S-Shut up."

"Shut up? My, aren't you disrespectful?" The man smirked. "I have to say, I'm impress-!"

*smash*

The man yelled lightly and stood up, staring at the enraged young male who had smashed his phone into the glass window, causing it to shatter. "I will NEVER be like YOU!" Fanboy shouted, shoving his hands through the glass and groping for the man's orange shirt. "I HATE YOUR GUTS!"

"Whoa! Lance, please!" Nurse Lady Pam cried, trying to hold back the small male with all her might as he arose in an angry frenzy. "Honey-!" His fist collided with her mouth, causing her lip to split and her grip on him to loosen. "F-Fanboy!" She cried, shocked that he'd struck her.

Fanboy paid no attention, screaming like a wild animal at the staff who held him back from his father. "I HATE YOU!" He screamed. "YOU CAN BURN IN HELL FOR ALL I CARE! YOU HEAR ME?! BURN IN HELL!" Saliva flew from his mouth, and his pupils shrunk to needle points as he fought and screamed in the name of his mother.

Elliot gently pulled a crying Nurse Lady Pam aside and whispered quietly to her, "I don't think he's quite ready for you yet. Look at him. He needs more time..." He swallowed. "...alone. To...To work things out with himself. I told them. Told 'em he wasn't stable enough to interact, and now look! It's so sad. The poor little lad."

Poor indeed! Fanboy again lunged for his father, and this time one of the staff members jabbed a needle at his side, plunging a knockout fluid into his bloodstream, and no more than a few seconds later, Fanboy was limp.

Nurse Lady Pam stood shaking as said staff lifted him up and began to carry him out of the room. The man was led back to his cell, muttering with indigence.

_Chapter _

There was honestly no question with what to do with the boy after he clearly displayed his consistent unstableness. He needed to be put away. No doubt about it. He simply wasn't ready to face the real world, not after...

Fanboy was immediately put into a straight jacket after his little rampage directed at his father. He was quickly stationed at a safer, temporary confined room where he couldn't possibly hurt himself or anyone else.

Now Fanboy was the loneliest he ever had been in his entire life, and soon, he began to imagine very suicidal thoughts. Just him dying. Alone. Slipping away into nothingness was fantastic. No more hurting and no more suffering. He would rest in peace.

He gurgled and moaned in his sleep, making little attempts to eat his wrist, but the muzzle preventing him from doing so. His legs jerked, knocking against the soft, white pads of the walls his body was popped up against and flooring he sat upon.

This was it. Now he was truly isolated. No more Relief Mother. No more real mother. No more Yo. No more hugs. No more kisses. No more sympathy. No more love or reassurance from anything at all. Absolutely no one liked him anymore. Nobody looked at him any higher than an animal. Because that was what he was. He accepted that now in his miserable state.

Then out of nowhere, a very familiar voice entered the atmosphere, awakening him. "Lance?" The male snapped awake and jerked upright to see who had interrupted his sleep. Had Nurse Lady Pam reappeared? Was it one of his hallucinations?

Wait, _Boog_? He froze stock still, unsure of what the man wanted. His emerald eyes flickered to the security guard in front of the closed doorway, holding a pair of handcuffs and a gun.

"Hey...I wanted to see how you were doing!" Boog said, smiling a half smile. "They said that visitors weren't allowed, but I insisted to come!"

"They aren't!" The security guard pointed out gruffly. "He isn't even stable enough to see his therapist yet, let alone a visitor! We only let you in because we owe you! Now hurry up and say what you need to say, because I'm leaving soon."

Fanboy quickly took hold of the round, circular pillow and tightly held it to his bony chest, staring at the two adults silently. Boog noticed the possessiveness and stepped forward. "What do you have there?" He took note of the muzzle covering nearly the entire area of Fanboy's jaw. ...That didn't look good.

As he approached, the boy shrunk back, shaking. He didn't trust Boog.

"Don't go any closer," the security man grunted, as if Fanboy was a dangerous animal. A monster.

A monster. Fanboy stiffened. He remembered now. All the bops and the taunting and the stealing. A monster. That's all Boog was. And then Fanboy remembered the murder. It was as if the calm lessons of nonviolence and love drained from his mind.

The young male let out a growl and gnashed his teeth at Boog's face when he came too close. Like a wounded animal. "Careful!" The security guard hissed through clenched teeth. "He's looney toons, remember?"

That did it. The man jumped back in surprise as Fanboy rounded himself up. His pupils had shrunk to needle points, and they glared with rage and hatred. His body was tensed, rigid, ready to kill.

A buckle came loose in the straightjacket and the boy yanked one of his arms out. Boog gasped, his heart pounding. A violet gloved hand rose with a pointer finger jutted out, directing straight at Boog. "You..." The voice was so angry, so raspy from lack of use. That was all Fanboy said, and Boog knew at that instant that he was in trouble. The uneasy atmosphere only worsened when the security guard took note of Fanboy's dense demeanor, and he placed a hand on his club.

The super-fan lunged, and Boog only had time to blink before Fanboy knocked him to the floor, beating him all the way. The man didn't dare punch back, instead holding his muscular arms up to protect his face while the fists flew. Boog's heart beat faster and faster with anxiety. He cried out for Fanboy to stop, but the boy was dead to his pleads. The security guard jumped to his feet and gripped the boy's arms and yanked him away. "YOU KILLED HIM!" came that horrible screech. "YOU KILLED MY ONLY FAMILY YOU SICK F-!" Boog heard a thunk and something collapsed on the floor. Fanboy.

The security guard stood over the unconscious boy with a club, panting slightly. "That's it. We're leaving! Come on Boog!" He hissed, taking hold of the dumbfounded man's arm and yanked him towards the door. The blonde's eyes never left the crumpled mess on the floor.

"Wait a minute!" He said, tugging his arm away from the security guard's grip. "Can you even do that?" He asked, motioning towards the unmoving child. "What if someone sees him in the morning? Won't they wonder what the bruise is all about?"

The security guard just rolled his eyes. "Doesn't matter Boog, let's go!" The man refused to move. "Ugh. They'll it assume he did it to himself. After all, he is self-destructive."

"He...he what? Oh... It isn't fair," the blonde whispered, yanking his shoulder away from the security guard's tight grasp. He knelt down next to Fanboy and inspected the broken, pitiful face. "What's wrong with him? And why is he wearing that...that thing on his face?"

The security guard chuckled, running a tongue over his dry, chapped lips. "He's bonkers dude," the raven-haired man sharply replied. "Probably thinks you're a threat so he's trying to protect his own. Know what I'm saying?"

Boog tore his gaze away from the limp body to the other man, guilt evident on his face. "It ain't right." He knelt down next to the boy, who had just begun to stir. He rested a thick, muscular hand his muzzled face and felt the tempo of vibrations coursing throughout the skin. He was lightly trembling.

The security guard paused. "I know it ain't right, but there isn't a thing we can do about it. Now come on, before someone catches us! You had your time!" he commanded, holding the door open for his friend.

Fanboy stirred again, but went unnoticed by the two adults as they argued. The door was like the exit to freedom. He motioned his left arm and moved about an inch towards the door. When the adults failed to notice, he moved another inch. Then another. Then another. Then another. The door was agape, for him! He just needed to get there! His stomach churned in nervousness. Sweat ran down his forehead, and the beating of his heart was audible. He began to inch towards the door which went unnoticed by the arguing adults. Then, he took his chance and charged for the door.

Ignoring the panicked shouts of the adults, he shoved his way out the open door, slamming and locking it behind him. He breathed heavily and stepped back for a moment to watch as Boog and the guard pounded on the little glass window of the door, their cries muffled. The super-fan didn't stay to watch for long.

Escape from The Hospital

Steal a security card

Go to security and turn off the security cameras

Glory. Insanity glorified at its absolute worst. He was free, but what did that mean for his unstableness? Quietly tiptoeing down the long dark corridors, he struggled to remove the muzzle but to no avail. Memory in order, he recalled the giant oak tree perched by the fence that separated him from the hospital and freedom...and Galaxy Hills. But to his dismay, there were many obstacles that he would have to overcome in order to achieve his freedom.

While thinking of this, he heard a voice-no, wait, two voices-they were coming from the end of the hallway. Upon instinct, he sunk into the shadows to be unnoticed. This actually worked quite well, because in this particular hallway, some of the lights were flickering and had gone off, so in this part of the room, he was safe. He watched with nervous excitement as the two staff members walked past him, oblivious to the child that hid in the shadows.

As they went off chuckling and laughing to each other, he finally deeply exhaled, realizing he had been holding his breath as they walked past. Looking closely, he noticed that each of them had a certain card on their matching grey belts with his or her ID imprinted on it. The two staff members continued on, rounding a corner and that's when he took his chance. Curiosity rising to what those significant looking cards would do he, followed them until the two staff members had reached a rather large thick glass door with a code printed on the side.

Having had expected them to punch in some sort of number code on the wall, he was surprised to see them lightly pluck the cards from their belts, insert the card into some sort of slot on the door, and he watched in awe as the door opened for them. Still chattering, they walked through, leaving a very astounded Fanboy behind as the door closed. So THAT was how one would get through the doors! It was either that or break them, but he was sure that breaking them would cause a lot more damage to himself than the actual door.

From that moment on he made a pact to himself to get one of those cards. It was basically his ticket out. And he knew exactly where to find one. As long as no one discovered him, Boog, or that security guard, he would be safe.

Hold on. He was sure that that security guard had one of those cards himself! He smiled excitedly at the thought. Oh good, he just needed to go back and...oh... His face paled at a disturbing realization. The security guard had his own card. Did that particular card open the patients' door? Like the door that had imprisoned him?

...No. No. The door cannot be unlocked from the inside. If that were the case, then he would've picked-locked his way out of there already. He sighed in relief and thought for a moment, remembering to keep well in the shadows as he strategized a plan.

He remembered passing by the "Warden's" office many times as he trekked through the halls in order to get from the cafeteria to his room. Those people had to get their cards somewhere, and he figured that office just had to have those cards in storage. The trouble was that he had no idea where the office was, and the last thing he wanted to do was to be caught searching the halls.

His heart jumped for a moment as he saw another staff member emerge from the end of the hall. To his astonishment (and somewhat horror) it was the "Warden" himself! He almost chuckled.

A warden to say the least, but that's just what they called him. A man about age 50, he had been a drill sergeant in one of the training camps for soldiers in the Vietnam War. He said that that was a particularly exciting part of his life, and he insisted that everyone call him Warden even though the war had ended.

Honestly, Fanboy thought it was a silly idea. Most soldiers wanted to forget the whole beastly thing, but not the Warden. He was a tall, buff man with a carrot-colored mustache that jumped whenever he was angry. His small, chocolate beady eyes darted this way and that, looking for trouble. The mere sight of him made Fanboy sick to his stomach.

Before the man rounded the corner, he suddenly stopped, frozen. Mustache twitching, he jerked his head and glared at the place where the child was. Fanboy felt his heart stop and he held his breath, not even daring himself to breathe. After a very tense few seconds, the Warden walked on, Fanboy quietly trailing him.

_"Hehe. He's going to catch you, you know that? You're going to be caught and put in a cell and never come out again,"_ The voice inside of his head chortled in amusement.

"No I won't," Fanboy muttered, before slapping a hand over his mouth and froze. He was mere a few feet away from the man, praying that he would not turn around and discover him. The Warden paused, but then decided that whatever he heard was just his imagination and continued on. The super-fan relaxed and held in a sigh of relief.

After no more than thirty seconds, the Warden reached his office. Grunting, he reached into his pocket and withdrew a large set of key, which clinked together. Fanboy inched closer and closer, scarcely allowing himself to breathe. When the door was unlocked, the Warden began to step in, but then stopped. Fanboy stopped as well, but not before slowly inching to the right.

The Warden's eyes flickered to the right, and he sniffed heavily and took a step down the hall opposite of where they just came. Fanboy kept inching until he was directly behind the Warden, in front of the door. The Warden took another step forward and Fanboy backed into the Office.

"Oh, it's right here!" The Warden laughed, his fingers clutching the wallet he took out of his pocket. "Stupid of me..." Fanboy ducked behind his desk as the Warden shut the door behind him...and locked it. The boy stayed as still as a mouse in the shroud of darkness, until he was sure that the man had gone away.

Then, he jumped up and felt the walls for a light switch, and once he had turned on the lights, he surveyed the room. Cards, cards, cards-ah! There they were!

Perfect.

...

He panted, mind foggy with fatigue as he entered the courtyard toward the great oak. For a moment, he stared up at it, the moonlight shining through the slightly transparent leaves, illuminating his face to a milky white. Cautiously placing his foot on the base of the trunk, he hopped ever-so carefully and gripped the middle-sized branch that was closest to him.

The rustle of leaves alarmed him, and he looked over his shoulder at the dark, quiet hospital. Being inside the whole time he was there, never had he had the chance to see what the actual physical building looked like.

It was a rotund building, a grey plastered one with a thick white stripe painted around the circumference of it. The roof, to his surprise, was glass. How could he have not noticed? Well, now that he thought about it, as he trekked the building's halls, he had always kept his head down to avoid making eye contact with anyone. Had he looked up only once, he might've caught a glimpse of the great blue sky with the beautiful white clouds of autumn.

"I'm...I'm getting off-topic," he scolded himself. Breathing deeply, he hoisted himself up a little further, then swung his leg around the branch he had held onto until he was perched upon it, looking around with his glittery emerald eyes.

He then crawled to a separate branch that was, much to his luck, hovering over the fence into the desert. Slowly, he moved as stealthily as he could and then jumped. He hit the ground harder than expected, seething pain traveling through his legs as they crumpled beneath him. He blinked back tears, trying to ignore the ache as he rose.

He was free.

The thought startled him, and he whirled around to face the hospital, wondering for only a moment if he really should go back.

Speeding through the empty, dark streets of the night, costume once again regained, a child's mind went absolute bonkers. Tiny but threatening voices entered his already broken psyche, whispering to him. Telling him things. Telling him to DO things. A white drone filled his eyes and he cried out into the night, begging the voices to leave him alone.

_"Hey Fan? Wanna hurt someone? You've got quite the knack for that!"_

_"You monster..."_

_"Go kill someone! Do it!" _

"Leave me alone!" Fanboy screamed, eyes twitching, hands nearly tearing the muzzle off his face while he consistently sprinted.

"_He's very unstable._"

"_Stop it! Please! Just STOP!"_

_"Burn in Hell."_

_"SHUT UP!"_

The voices receded for a bit, but started taunting him no more than a few seconds later. They would not leave. They would never leave.

The wind tore at him, which burned, and it was deathly cold for such a small child. He shivered uncontrollably while he tore at the muzzle. It didn't budge, and he panicked, beating at his own face and running ever faster. With animalistic screams, he disappeared into the pitch black night with voices still haunting his own mind.

The white noise completely drowned out any other audible noise around him, the world tilting and expanding and contracting in his lie of sight, his body jerking and writhing with a control he had no power over.

Yo felt an audible shudder course through her veins as she walked out the doors of the Mental hospital for the first time. The noise, the people, the flocks of figures walking so closely together was beyond her. How long had she been imprisoned in solitary? Her feet trudged along the rough concrete sidewalk and she stuffed her hands in her skirt pockets. She kept her sapphire eyes to the ground, daring not to look up in the eyes of another. Multiple cars zoomed past her and she flinched.

She couldn't quite remember how or what happened to Fanboy. All she remembered was following him into his room and trying to comfort him, and then, he had attacked her? Wasn't that right? She remembered waking up some time later with fuzzy senses and a tremendous headache. Ugh. She rubbed her temples with two fingers and groaned.

Just thinking about him made her feel sick. She was told that he had escaped and placed in a different hospital and managed to escape that one as well.

"What stealth." She almost grinned but instead grimaced. What stealth? What was she thinking? He could be hurt, or hurting someone else. She remembered what Beatrice said. He was a danger to himself and everyone around him. He needed to be stopped.

Yo's pace quickened. What if someone else found him before she did? Most of the world was unaware of Fanboy's mere existence, let alone what problems he had. Whoever he encountered with first would misunderstand him, hurt him, maybe even kill him, but Fanboy would put up a fight before that ever happened.

The girl remembered how tense he was when she was last with him. Very unstable. He was capable of murder. He portrayed that to her in the Fanlair . And if he was capable, then most likely he would do it again if approached.

"There is no Chum Chum. He isn't real," she said aloud. She would repeat that to herself, to remind herself of the sort. Because sometimes whether she was alone or in a crowd, she would hear him. Like now.

_"Hello Yo!" _The girl walked on, completely ignoring the voice.

_"Yo, please! I need your help!" _She walked on.

"_Fanboy needs your help!"_ She paused and sighed. "Alright Chum Chum. What is it?"

"Yo_, Fanboy is in big trouble. He went back home at the Fanlair and stayed there for a while. But then he did some bad things and went back to a mental hospital. But he escaped again! He plans to hurt people! He's going to people, Yo! You need to stop him_!"

The girl paled and clutched her cheeks. People walking by her glanced in confusion. "Hurt people? Kill?" She couldn't believe it. No. "N-No Chum Chum. Fanboy would never do that."

"_He almost did it to you! Trust me, I know him more than anyone. Yo, he's gone. He'll never be himself again. Every one of his waking days is a nightmare. The nightmares don't stop when he wakes up. His family is dead. He thinks your dead. He has no friends. Nobody alive loves him. Pity him, Yo. You need to put him out of his misery. You need to end it."_

"No, Chum Chum. He's just confused. He needs help."

"_Putting him in a cage won't help him, Yo_."

Yo began to cry. She was just so overwhelmed and now her own psyche was warning her of this soon-to-be murderer? "No! I didn't mean that! I just mean he needs attention, and love."

_"It's too late, Yo. I know you want what's best, but sometimes the bad thing to do is the right thing to do. Just end it. And you better hurry. He's hunting tonight."_

"Little boy? Little boy? Please...don't kill me."

The axe was already coated liquid crimson. It had for awhile now. It had almost since he had discovered the tool in an abandoned tools he'd on the outskirts of his town. Liquid crimson. The shaft clenched in trembling, equally bloody fingers. He had zoned in. He had to kill. He just didn't care what he did...right? He was in a psychotic frenzy.

He stood before two girls his age, one brunette, the other blonde. One of them had abandoned her friend to curl up in a corner while the other stood frozen with fear in front of the intimidating male. While he was on the run, they had stopped and approached him. After observing his mentally unstableness, they threatened to call the police, which put them in the most dangerous place they could be at.

"Please. Don't hurt me," the blonde whimpered, moving her lanky arms over her chest for a sense of security. Fanboy didn't answer, instead licking the blood away from his lips. The blood was not his.

"Get away from her, you monster!" The brunette in the corner yelled, not willing to jump to save her friend, but ready to defend her verbally. It made him twitch. Monster. Was that his new name? It was said to his face so frequently thus it seemed to stick.

The perpetrator who held the weapon blinked back angry tears. "Don't call me that." With questionable strength, the axe was raised above the boy's head and fell, slicing into the frozen person.

"_Make her feel the pain_."

All was quiet, except the loud, shrill scream of the now dead girl's friend. Fanboy panted slightly from exhaustion and wiped his eyes, smearing the blood and coating his face in a bloody mask. With a grunt, he yanked the axe from the person's stomach and laughed while tears ran down his face. And why not?! Death is hilarious! Ah, mood swings.

He knew he was crazy. He knew it from the very beginning. But he hadn't always welcomed it. He tried to regain sanity. He really did try. But he couldn't push it out of his system, because that WAS his system. He just needed to accept it now. And he did. He didn't like it, killing people, but it had to be done.

_"Kill everyone, and the pain will go away, because if you exert your pain on others, the pain you once possessed will drain into the bodies of the deceased until you have no ownership of it."_

"Go away voice." He whispered lowly. "Leave me alone. I'll kill. I'll do it. I don't find it enjoyable, but-"

_"Oh you will. Trust yourself, killing will give you such a rush. The feeling of total power over whoever you survey is exhilarating. It is the greatest feeling. But don't do it only for the feelings, or the urges. Do it for the satisfaction of ridding those whom you despise. Do not do it for the feeling. Do it for yourself. Let it all out and strike. Kill all who have left you. Kill all who have hurt you, no matter how they did it."_

"Okay... But..." Fanboy glanced back at the corpse he had created and sniffed. He looked at the other girl who had called him a monster. She was sitting in a corner chewing on her fingernails down to the nubs, shaking with absolute terror. "What about the aftermath? Like right now, I feel a little guilty."

"_No! Push those feelings out if your system! Hate is your only drive! You have not a feeling. No guilt, no remorse, no regret. Only hatred and that's it!"_

"But what about that feeling? Didn't you say something about a rush?!" Fanboy stared in fright at the bloody corpse and then at the remaining girl who still sat trembling.

"_Hatred is the rush, you idiot! Didn't you know!? How stupid could you be?" _Fanboy began to back away. In his mind, he saw not the words floating about, but instead coming from the trembling girl's mouth.

"No! Stop it!" He yelled, raising the axe above his head.

The girl in reality covered her face and sobbed. "What are you talking about?" She cried. "I didn't do anything to you!" She looked to her side to find a pebble. She grabbed it and chucked the thing at his face. He dodged it easily.

_"Ha! You think you're tough? You only kill because that's all you're good at, Monster!"_

"Leave me alone!" The boy screamed, his voice emitting as a horrible scratchy rasp. "All of you should just leave me alone forever! I'll kill you! I will and nobody can stop me!"

"Why?" The girl screamed back, tears flowing down her paled face. "I have nothing to give you and you already took thing only thing I cared about!" She pointed to her best friend._ "I hate you! I hate you! You're nothing but a monster_!"

The hallucinated words hit home. They hate him? He shook his head. Why was he even wondering? He understood why they hated him. He was a monster. Back when he thought things were fine, the name calling from his classmates, the glares of the citizens, the looks of resentment from everyone...it wasn't them. It was him. He was a monster.

No wonder nobody liked him.

No wonder he was an outcast.

No wonder he was feared.

No wonder he was hated.

"...You're right. I'm a monster," he admitted through clenched teeth, his voice breaking along with whatever was left of his heart, raising the axe... After it fell it added another person to his victim list. "So if I am nothing but a monster, I should do what monsters do best."

...

Yo was sprinting as fast as she possibly could through the streets of Galaxy Hills. Sweat dripped down her face and she was becoming winded, but she never stopped. She had to stop Fanboy. Every step felt like she was dragging lead. She knew deep down that she would probably be too late by the time she found Fanboy, but maybe she could knock some sense into him.

_"I have to stop him_!"

_..._

"Helloooo Lenard! Miss me?"

The Frosty Mart employee glanced up with a bored expression that immediately transitioned into one of pure terror. His jaw dropped and hung, eyes enlarged. His first impulse was to run for his life, literally. Because lest he stay...

Fanboy stood at the entrance of the store, the sliding glass doors opening automatically for him.

The axe coated in blood held with both of his crimson hands. Lenny recognized a sinister gleam in the boy's eyes that he had seen before. The boy cocked his head to the side and grinned a twitchy grin. There was blood on his teeth.

Lenny felt like fainting. "W-Wha...? Fanboy... What did you do?" He started to back away from the counter as the boy approached him. God, he knew that kid had issues, but _this_? Fear shot up his spine as he visualized a gory outcome to the unexpected predicament.

"Um... W-What d-do you w-want?" The teen squeaked, trying to stay as still and as calm as possible, which was difficult, for his life was on the line. Anything could set Fanboy off. "D-Do you want a-a Frosty Freezy Freeze?" Maybe that could distract the boy, but now, Lenny couldn't even think straight.

"I already had my Frosty Freezy Freeze, Lenny." The blood... Lenny's stomach lurched and he backed away holding his abdomen, coughing in disgust. The memory of Fanboy eating himself flashed through his mind. Now the boy had other plans. His eyes flickered to the glass window. Outside lay the bloody corpse of a rather heavy-set young male. W-Was that-? Oh dear God, that was Chris Chuggy! He was a classmate of Fanboy's!

"How could you?" the African-American whispered. "How could you do such a thing?"

_"Disgusting freak! What is wrong with you? Why would you do such a vile thing you lunatic?"_

"Because I'm a monster!" Fanboy suddenly screamed, jumping onto the glass countertop, axe in hand. The child's abrupt movement caused Lenny to stumble backwards and fall to the floor. With a screech, Fanboy leapt down to the teen's level and swung the axe.

*crunch*

The axe buried itself in Lenny's chest, smashing his rib cage, blood instantly spurting from the wound. He froze mid-breath, stunned, staring into his attacker's hate-filled eyes. Fanboy neared the teen's stricken face and yelled," That's how I could do this! I'm a monster, Lenny! A MONSTER!" He yanked the axe out of Lenny's chest only to repeatedly whack at his face while shouting, "I'm a monster! Monster! Monster! Monster! MONSTER! MONSTER!" While he bludgeoned his former friend, a sick, twisted feeling came over him.

"I'm a monster! A monster... A monster..." His hits became slower and less frequent. The blood...oh, it was everywhere, on the floor, walls, himself. Lenny was unrecognizable, his arms and legs dissembled, sliced away. Even though the teen was dead, Fanboy continued to hack away at the guts. Steam rose from the shed liquid.

_"Murderer..." _

The young male looked down at his now bludgeoned friend when a smile twitched at his lips. He giggled lightly and dropped the axe, gripping the sides of his head, smearing blood over his skin and hair. "Hehe..." A low grumble rumbled from his chest as he stared at the corpse, laughter bubbling up in his throat.

"Hehe-he-HEH...teheeee..." Suddenly he threw his head back as the last, singular thread of his sanity snapped, leaving nothing but a cackling, howling animal. "GAH-HAHAHAHAHAHAH! HE'S DEAD!" He shrieked with laughter. "HE IS DEAD! THEY'RE ALL DEAD! I-I KILLED THEM! I KILLED THEM!" He chortled loudly at his own words and picked himself up, grabbing the axe, giggling all the way to the door in a maddened state of mind.

"I killed him...I killed him!" He sang under his breath, and stared up to his water tower.

_..._

"Fanboy!" Yo screamed, tears streaming down her face. "Where are you? Fanboy!" It was nearing night and she had entered the Fanlair. She ran up the stairs, her feet creating an Earth-pounding stomp against the creaky wooden steps.

Empty. Nobody was here. Everything was exactly where Fanboy had left it. Once the smell of copper reached her nose, she bent over and retched. Her head began to pound. She was starting to lose it.

Pound, pound, pound...

"_Yo_?"

"What is it, Chum Chum?"

"_I'm sorry, Yo, but it's too late. Fanboy's already killed some townsfolk_."

There was a silence. A very long one. Yo took a deep breath, desperately trying to stay calm. "What do I need to do then? If it's already too late, then there isn't much I can do, isn't there?"

"_Stop him before he hurts anyone else!"_

"And how do you want me to stop him?" Yo snapped in question. How was she to stop her friend? She had made a futile attempt to stop him before, what was trying again going to accomplish. "Want me to kill him? Because that isn't going to happen."

_"If you really don't want to kill him, try to knock some sense into him. Think about it. He thinks you're dead_."

Yo stayed quiet, unsure of what Chum Chum was suggesting.

_"You're the only one that he has any ounce of feeling for. If you stopped him, talked to him perhaps, you can convince him that he isn't alone_."

Yo laughed through her tears. "That'll screw him up. He will think I'm not real."

_"But you are! Show him you are! Prove it to him_!"

"Okay."

...

Finding her male counterpart was not too difficult. She just stayed at the Fanlair until he arrived through the door at about 10:50 at night. "HELLO? HONEY, I'M HOME!" Blood stained his main attire and face, nothing but a walking corpse.

He was giggling madly to himself. "I killed them...I killed them!" He chanted in a high-pitched sing-song voice, a smile plastered on his face. The mere sight of him caused her to retch, which caught his attention. He gasped and positioned the axe, smile growing wider.

"Hehehe...W-Well, well, well!" He gasped, ending his words with a cackle. "L-Look w-who's here! My good friend YO! Haha!"

"Fanboy, please," Yo whispered, slowly taking a step toward the deranged male before he made the first move. He watched her through glittery emerald, crazed eyes.

"Oh-ho-ho! Oh, no you don't!" He chuckled. "Hallucinations like your aren't going to stop me! Get away from me!" He said, clenching the axe tighter in his blood-coated hands. "Just get out of here, you ghost!" He spat with an evil-looking grin. "You aren't real! Heheh! D-Don't try and bewitch a mooooonster," he sang.

"I-I'm not a ghost!" The girl squeaked in fear, daring herself to take another step forward. "I'm real. I promise!"

"Real?! GAHAHAHAHAHA!" He laughed hysterically, "That's what they aaaaall say," Fanboy giggled, randomly grabbing at his arm. He closed his eyes and backed into a wall. He seemed to be mumbling obscenities to himself. When she took yet another step, he swung the axe as a warning, almost slicing her stomach. He giggled. A near miss, but she refused to back out.

"Aren't you afraid?" He questioned smiling, wiping his eyes with a free hand. "Don't you want to leave the poor-wittle monster all aloooone?" He asked in a sing-song tone.

Yo thought about it for a moment. To be honest, she was terrified out of her mind, but she of course could not tell him that. Truth or lie. She went with a lie. "No," she said simply. "I'm not afraid of you." She decided that she would have to be the reasonable of the two if they were going to go anywhere. "And I don't want to leave here."

"Noooooo?" He whispered in his high-pitched, raspy voice, raising an eyebrow. "You don't want to go?"

"No! I'm not scared!" Yo declared firmly.

"Pfft...hehehe!" He giggled, and then said as a matter-of-factly, "You should be," He pointed the axe at her, causing her to reflexively flinch. "Because I am Fanboy!" He paused, as if saying his name aloud would have some desired effect on her, and he smiled a toothy grin. "I am Fanboy the MONSTER!" He seemed to have some sort of reaction to that word, Yo noticed. Monster.

"No you aren't! You're a person! A boy!" the Asian girl corrected, taking another step. Did he even know who she was? "Don't your remember me Fanboy? It's me, Yo!"

"Yo is dead!" Fanboy snarled, his voice cracking a bit which ended with hysterical laughter.

Yo's heart pounded and she mentally sent the broken being a sorry glance. "Blake shot her! And I'll never see her again!" Although he was laughing madly, the Asian girl noticed the vulnerability tone of his voice near the last part of his sentence. "The r-real Yo, anyway," he continued. "You're just a fake. Now go away. And if you don't, you will be dead before you can say a word! Better move along! Haha! Or else I'm gonna kill yooooouuu!"

"Why would you kill me?" Yo whispered, tears flowing down her face. "I thought you loved me...And I'm really real!" She took another step forward under his watchful stare. To her surprise, he backed away, moving against the wooden door.

"Because I'm as monster!" He said simply, giggling reduced but the smile remaining, he raised the axe as a last resort. "I do what monsters are meant to do: kill everyone," and as if to add a touch of vileness, he added, "and if I'm hungry enough, I'll get to have a treat." He licked at his lips and chuckled. "Tastes like chicken."

Though filled to the brim with shock and disgust, Yo refused to back down. "You are not a monster, Lance," she said, her stomach churning. He took a little step back as she neared him. "You are my friend, and I know you too well to think that you would be doing things like this." She was so close. A mere foot separated them.

Fanboy clenched the axe to his chest and trembled, the smile finally falling. "T-That is not true," he snarled, but there was an edge of doubt in his voice. "You're not real. Now go away." He pointed the axe at her as a warning, but Yo was too close, and she was not about to back down from him and the bloodied axe.

"It is true, Lance." She took another step, close, so close to him. "I know you. You are not like this. You don't need anger and hate. You need attention...and love. You just need someone to be your friend."

"Ha! M-Maybe. But nobody ever wanted to be my friend," Fanboy snapped, eye twitching repeatedly. "I tried...I tried so hard all my life for someone to like me. But nobody ever EVER did." He shifted his body slightly as his emerald eyes cleared in remembrance. "At least now I know why." His grip on the axe tightened. "People see through the nice side of me and realized who I truly am before even I knew. It's because I'm a monster. And that's that."

"But what about me?" Yo asked, smiling a small smile. She took one more step and took the risk of placing her hand upon the axe. He tensed but moved not. Yo took his stillness as a chance to continue speaking. She had to be careful though. Like Lenny, she understood that any wrong move could send him on a killing spree. "I still like you, Lance." She told him. "I believe in you. And I can tell you right now that you are not what you think you are. You are not a monster. You are my friend, and I love you."

Fanboy bit his lip and closed his eyes, grip tightening around the shaft of the axe. Yo saw a clear path of liquid trail through blood on his cheek. He was crying. "No. You don't love me. YOU DON'T! Plus, if you aren't my imagination, then you must be a ghost."

"I'm no ghost. And what makes you think I don't like you?" Yo asked, _her_ grip tightening around the weapon. Almost there. Almost there.

A few more trails of salty liquid streamed down his crimson face and he let out a choking sound before answering. "I already told you. I'm a monster. And how could you love someone who kills?!" He shouted, and his expression darkened. "You need to leave," he muttered. "I'm a monster. It'll only be a matter of time before I kill you, so you need to stay away. Leave me alone." But she didn't move.

"Lance Corporal, I refuse to go. I'm not leaving you like this," Yo said firmly, planting her feet to the wooden floor.

At those words, a memory washed over him. Those words sounded familiar.

_"Yo shook her head in contradiction. "No," she said, "I am not leaving you to suffer." And she embraced him once more, cuddling into his chest. Fanboy began to pant, and a sick feeling invaded his stomach._

_"No," he wanted to say. "Let go!" He placed a trembling hand on the top of her head and tried pushing her away. She refused to let go, and the male found himself shaking. "Yo, let go!" he was disgusted at how squeaky his voice sounded, and she refused. Finally, he gave in, but still having a silent cry over how unfair the world was. He felt disgusting. His mother's death was his own fault, he decided. He was horrible. He was going to Hell. Then again, most of his life was already Hell, for he couldn't imagine anything more badly than this. He let his chin rest on the top of Yo's head, the only audible thing comforting him was her breathing._

"W-Why not?" He muttered. Then he noticed something. The voices hadn't arrived since Yo had confronted him. Why was that? Oh... It was because Yo was only a figment of his imagination. "Never mind," he said before the girl had a chance to answer. "It doesn't matter! You're only a ghost!" His eyes filled with tears and he _raised the axe_.

Dread coursed through Yo's mind as she saw the gleam of someone else's blood coated on the axe as he yanked it away from her grip.

"Heh! Sorry Yo ghost. You're really nice but I don't want to see you in my mind anymore. It hurts too much."

Yo was beginning to panic. He was going to kill her. He was honestly going to murder her. "_Think! Think!"_ she thought to herself. "_Convince him you are real!" _She didn't know what to of anymore. She was out of ideas. As one desperate plan of action, she flung herself at him and clutched his bloody cheeks with her hands.

"Can you feel ghosts?!" She cried, tears trailing down her own face, and she began to cry. "Can you touch ghosts?! Are ghosts warm?! Are they?! I'm real!" She cried. "I'm really real! I'm real I'm real I'm real!" Her face pressed against his and he froze, stricken to the core.

Something...Something inside of him clicked.

The girl before him, was real. Blood-shot emerald eyes enlarged in shock and his mouth went agape. All he could do was stare in horror at what he was about to chop into little bits. "I almost killed her..." He began to shake and the axe fell from his hands, falling uselessly to his side, overwhelming guilt flooding through his mind.

_"What are you doing you monster?! Kill her! Kill her now_!"

"_No! I-I'm not going to!"_

_"Do it now while you still have the chance! Look ! The axe is right there! Grab it and smash it in her head! Rip out her guts and feast on it!"_

The animal instinct inside had to be controlled.

_"No! I refuse! You aren't in control, I am!"_

_"Tell that to the people you have already killed at my command. And why can't you kill her? What's one more going to do? Are you trying to redeem yourself? Besides, even if you don't kill her, it doesn't change who you are. You are still a monster."_

"But that doesn't mean I have to act on it anymore!" Fanboy whispered aloud, the trembling girl still clinging to his face.

_"It looks like you already have! Why the sudden change of heart? Now do it!"_

_"No! YobnaF, I have HAD it! You've made my life a disaster! I've followed your orders. I've listened to everything you have said about me. When you said I was at fault, I believed that I was at fault. When you said I was evil, I believed I was evil. When you told me that that I was loved by nobody, I believed told me to hurt. To kill. You ordered me to hurt Yo, and I did it without question. You told me that my very best friend in the world isn't real, and I believe you. You're right, my future actions cannot change what I did in the past. I murdered, and I can never go back and undo that. You've turned me into a monster. Now, I-I didn't have to do what I did. I had a choice. You would not keep out of my head...you tortured me. But it's over now."_

_"KILL HER! EXERT YOUR ANGER! DO IT NOW!"_

_"It's over. I, Lance Corporal, will never hurt another living soul. I'm going to end it myself. Too many people have been hurt because of me. Blake, Lenny, Yo, my mother, Marsha, Kyle...Chum Chum."_

_"You deserve to DIE you piece of trash!"_

_"I plan to. I deserve to die. I deserve torture. And if I have to burn in Hell in order to save Yo, then I'll do it."_

_"No! No! You can't do that!"_

_"Who's going to stop me? You!? Please. You're nothing but a voice! And I will succeed in dying! I will! Everything that I have left to live for will eventually be destroyed by me. I can't go on a rampage again. I'm going to stop myself."_

"N-Never again," he whispered, audible to the girl. He paused. No voice. Then to Yo, "I-I'm not gonna hurt you, Yo. You're safe from me." Her hands gently massaged his face.

"Come on," Yo murmured in a rather motherly tone. "Let's go clean you up." She removed her hands from his face and took his crimson shaky hands in her own, leading him away from the axe. "Easy does it," she told herself. "Be gentle with him."

As she led him upstairs towards the bathroom, he began to wail. "Oh my gosh Yo! I'm so sorry! I'm so so so sorry I didn't listen to you!" He bawled. "I'm so so so sorry." For his sake, she gave him a smile.

"It's okay," she began, "I-"

"No! No it isn't okay!" He interrupted as they stepped into the bathroom. "I killed people, Yo, I killed them!" His face had paled, and his eyes were darting this way and that. "They're dead! I-I'm going to be put in jail-or worse!" He thought of the life sentence. If that were his punishment, then he could never find a way to kill himself. He decided, he could not live with himself. He was practically dead already. "They're dead...They're dead..." He muttered over and over. He began to feel rather dizzy. "I should be dead, not them."

"Shhhh..." Yo shushed, leading him to the sink. As he cried, she helped him watch the layers and layers of other people's life essence from his trembling hands. It was thick crimson liquid with the smell of coppery iron. Yo fixated on watching it swirl around the drain and disappear for good. "Can you...wash off yourself?" She pointed to the shower. He nodded in between sobs. "They're dead...they're dead..."

"Okay, I'll be right outside," she informed him, and walked out the door, shutting it gently behind her. Once it was shut, she allowed herself to cry.

He didn't need a friend. He needed a mother. Love. The one thing he didn't have.


	20. Chapter 20

_**Chapter Twenty**_

No more taunts, no more insane orders, no more internal voices. He was free. Sort of. From the voices in his mentally rocked mind? Yes. From being a monster? Not very. He couldn't change who he was or what he had done. But if altering the past was a possible thing, then over eleven people would still be living.

Fanboy wanted to get rid of all the filth that had he allowed to be etched onto his body. It was a symbol, that he was an evil killer, but now he wanted to be cleansed. It was impossible inwardly, but outwardly, it was no problem, although it did take quite a while to scrub off the stains of human misery from his skin.

He watched as the blood ran down his body in thin watery streams and shuddered. No matter what he did, there would always be blood. Mm... He licked his lips as that old familiar glint tinted his eyes. Delicious blood. No, wait! He slapped himself. He's never going to think like that ever again!

As soon as he started washing his hair, the red liquid ran into his eyes, blinding him with crimson. His heart pounded from anxiety and fear. Every other second was a reminder to him that the voices had not returned. But why not? He shook his head.

"D-don't even think about it," he kept telling himself, arms wrapped around his undernourished body. To his relief, there was only the sound of water plinking against the now rusty-red colored floor of the tub. He would quietly talk to ease himself, in short, simple sentences. "Yo's here. She understands. She's trying to help. I get it. I can't hurt her. I need to get away from her. I need to die. I need to protect her." Now dying wasn't only a way to be free of himself, but to protect the only person he sincerely cared about.

Yo was beside herself. She still couldn't believe that she was alive. It had been a close call, that was for sure. The axe could have sliced into her skull and ended her for good. "I should tell him about Kyle," she whispered, moving towards the axe. She gingerly picked it up with one hand at the non-bloody section of the shaft and thought, "_What do I do with this?" _Dispose of it of course.

"_Yo_?"

Oh speak of the devil. Yo rubbed her forehead. The voices never let her be. "Yes Chum Chum?" She asked aloud.

"_Yo, he's planning something. Something bad. One more person will die soon. But don't worry, because it won't be you_."

Panic and dread consumed the Asian girl's mind for what seemed to be the billionth time. "No... No, you're wrong. He won't commit suicide!" She breathed quite heavily for a moment. Honestly, now that she thought about it, it did not seem impossible. This was now, and she could still remember the last time he seemed suicidal to her knowledge.

_The four girls stood in silence for a moment, trying to analyze the situation. Then Cher rang in her thoughts, "Are… Are you worried that if he gets worse, he'll commit-"_

_"NO! No, no, that'__s impossible!__" Yo interrupted quickly. She waved her hand and gave a halfhearted laugh, "Come on, this is Fanboy we're talking about here; he would never do something like that! He wouldn'__t!__"_

That was back when things were still taking a turn for the worst. But before the mental hospital.

"How could all this have happened?" She whispered. "We never deserved this."

"_Bad things happen, Yo. Sometimes we can't control it!"_

"But why us?" the girl questioned, stepping outside with the weapon. "And there's another thing I've been wondering. How could the both of us hear and see you, Chum Chum? How can we have the same exact memories of you?! How?!" She paused, waiting for an answer and walked down the steps to the top of 'Oz's Comics'.

"_Why do you think? You two share a special connection, or a special disease, I might say."_

"That can't be right!" Yo argued. "If we share the same mental disability, how is that he has the urge to kill people, and I don't?"

"_Everyone's different. He is no exception. Sometimes it had to to with genetics. Remember his mother?"_

Yo shook her head, her complexion darkening. "No," she replied. "I know what you're...I'm thinking, but Beatrice was so sweet. She was never sadistic like that."

_"True enough. Remember the father_?"

The girl nodded her head as the realization slowly sunk in. "Y-You're right. His daddy-"

"-_-Is like that. I'm sure he is just as bad, or even worse. Genetics pass down into Fanboy's...and there you are. He's a problem, just like his father. And he's afraid, Yo, can't you see? He's scared that he's going to hurt you, or worse, kill you._"

"...Is that why he wants to kill himself?" Yo gasped.

_"Yes. He wants to protect you from himself. And for his sake, Yo, you should let him."_

"No!" Yo yelled aloud. "Stop saying that he should die! He can't die! He'll get better, you'll see!" She declared, crossing her arms in defiance.

_"Listen. The Police will eventually catch him. And what do you think they will do to him_?"

What did the police do with insane children? The Electric Chair crossed Yo's mind_. _She bit her bottom lip out of nervousness and shuddered.

"_Just let him die, Yo. You know that it's over_."

"I don't want him to die!" Yo squeaked, tears once again streaming down her face like mini rivers. With choking sobs of misery, she sprinted back into the water-tower terrace. Taking out her cell-phone, one of the things she had received from the hospital after checking out, she reached up and placed it on a wood beam and set if to camera. It was hidden, but could still survey the entire upstairs. Now she could have some lead if he had ever tried something. "Fan-Lance?" She called out softly. "Are you done?" The pitter-patter of water droplets had ceased.

"I'm done," replied a small, quiet voice. Yo followed it to the top of the stairs to see her male counterpart sitting at the foot of his bed with towel wrapped around his overly-thin waist. Her heart clenched tightly at the sight of the guilt-ridden male, and she put on a big smile.

_"Should I tell him that I know about his plan? But that might get him defensive, or angry. What if it isn't his plan at all? Then if I told him, it would give him the idea. Oh, what do I do?_"

She took a deep breath and inched towards him. "Hey Lance. I bet you're wondering why I'm alive."

Fanboy smiled slightly. "How can you be alive? Blake shot you..." His face scrunched with a look that said he was remembering things that he did not want to visualize. " I was right there. I saw it happen." His face then darkened to a scowl. "He did the same thing to my mother."

"At least she's in Heaven," Yo amended. "But I wanted to tell you, since you deserve to know. Kyle brought me back." Fanboy gasped in utter disbelief.

"H-He can do that?" He stuttered. Instantly, happiness coursed through his mind, a feeling he had not possessed in quite some time. If his friend Kyle could bring someone back from the dead, who was to say he couldn't do it again? What if he brought back the murder victims? He could do that!

A smile spread over Fanboy's face. "He can do it again!"

Yo sighed and walked over to the male and placed a hand on his bare shoulder, unconsciously causing him to flinch. "I'm sorry Lance. I know what you're thinking, but..." Her eyes filled with tears.

"_Get it together Yo_,"

"What? What is it?" Fanboy asked, gently shrugging his shoulder away from her grip. As he became aware of her tears, his happiness disappeared as quickly as it arrived. "What happened to him?"

The girl in question shook her head and began explaining through tears of misery.

...

_Kyle closed his eyes and began muttering a strange language under his breath, one that only wizards would understand. He concentrated on the magic that he wielded at his fingertips—a blue glow surrounding them. Elliot watched, impressed. Kyle placed his glowing fingers on the girl's bloody forehead and released the magic into her wound. _

_For a moment, all was silent. Kyle and Elliot watched, Elliot with anticipation and Kyle with nervousness. Yo did not move. Did the spell work? Kyle knew he wasn't exactly Sigmund the Sorcerer, but this spell just had to work, it HAD to!_

_The blue light completely absorbed into Yo's wound and disappeared. Kyle let out a huge sigh of relief when the Asian girl stirred. Elliot's mouth fell open and he cheered with joy as Yo opened her eyes. Kyle ran to her side when she tried to sit up._

_"K-Kyle?" She whispered, staring up at his relieved face._

_"Oh thank heavens!" Kyle sighed. "Yo, what on Earth happened to you?"_

_"She was shot," Elliot informed, staring at the young wizard in shock and admiration. "And her friend was kidnapped by one of the other patients."_

_"Kidnapped?" Yo gasped, still struggling to sit up. Kyle gently lifted her to a sitting position. "Y-You mean Fanboy? By whom?" _

_"Whoa! Whoa!" Kyle cried as she attempted to climb out of the bed. "Yo, this is not the time to worry about him. You need to worry about yourself." He carefully eased her back into the bed and took her pale hands into his. "You died," he whispered sternly. "I believe that warrants the day off."_

_"B-But Fanboy..." She stuttered before Kyle shushed her. "He could be hurt!"_

_"The lad is right, my dear," the Fedora man stated solemnly. "You need to rest. Don't worry about your friend, the Police are looking for him. They'll find him soon enough."_

_"Correct. And if it makes you feel any better, I will... I will accompany them in their quest for Fanboy," Kyle said, giving her hands a tight squeeze. "I'm a full-fledged wizard; I'm sure with my assistance the police will succeed in finding Fanboy in no time at all!"_

_"Oh Kyle, you would really do that?" Yo said excitedly._

_"No, he will not," a deep, British accented voice snapped. All three of the people jumped with a start and looked behind them in horror. _

_Kyle gasped and then laughed nervously when he saw who it was. "P-Professor Flan!" He exclaimed, slightly backing away. "Charmed to see you again! Y-You're looking well!"_

_"Oh shut up!" The talking dessert snapped angrily. He stepped forward and gripped the young wizard's arm rather roughly._

_"Hey! Wait a minute!" Elliot yelled, walking forward. "What are you doing?"_

_"I'm taking back this student to where he belongs!" The Professor exclaimed, shaking Kyle a bit as he spoke. Elliot gazed into the boy's eyes, which were wide with fear._

_"He has broken a very valuable rule of Milkweed, and that is using his magic on humans before he graduated. And therefore, he will pay dearly. I'm sure he was aware of that rule, was he not?" Professor Flan asked sarcastically._

_ Yo watched in horror. "B-But sir! It was for a good cause! He saved me!" She didn't notice Kyle frantically shaking his head, and she continued. "He brought me back to life and he's going to help me find my friend! He-"_

_The raspberry dessert burst out laughing. "Oh-ho!" He chuckled. "My, my, my, what a predicament you have caused." He was addressing Kyle, tightening his grip on the boy's arm even more so it left red marks. _

_"I-I apologize for my discretion Professor Flan," Kyle murmured, hanging his head in order to avert his eyes from his teacher's. "But she is a very good friend, and I couldn't possibly leave her dead. I had-!"_

_"No, boy. You did not HAVE to do a thing. Milkweed Academy has strict rules and you were expected to follow every one of them. However, you had the impulse to rebel, and that is not what we want at this school. The last time you did wrong, we expelled you. What do you imagine we are going to do to you now?"_

_Yo saw Kyle gulp and she gave him an apologetic look. The wizard sighed and peered up at the talker one. "I imagine that you will expel me...for good?" He guessed sadly._

_"Hold on now!" Elliot began, but Professor Flan shushed him._

_"Quiet! You humans haven't the slightest idea about how us wizards mark our students with punishment. We have a much...harsher way of "fixing a student." He said, making air quotes at the word "fixing"._

_"But he did nothing wrong!" Yo cried, swinging her legs over the side of the bed._

_"Wait! Yo!" Kyle cried, but she hobbled over to them without hesitation._

_"He saved me! He helped me! How could you punish someone for doing the right thing?" She asked, placing her hands on her hips._

_"He. Has. Not. Graduated. Something could have gone wrong with a spell and more people would have been harmed-or worse, and that is unacceptable." With a quick snap of his fingers, the professor shrouded both he and Kyle in mist. As they began to disintegrate in thin air, Kyle talked out to Yo, "Yo! There's something I need to say to you and it's very important! Fanboy is going to-!"_

_Then they disappeared before Kyle had finished speaking._

_... _

"Kyle..." Fanboy whispered, tears dribbling down his face. He quickly wiped them away. "I miss him. He was really nice."

"Yeah, I miss him too," Yo agreed excitedly. Not about Kyle, of course, but that Fanboy said that he missed the wizard. He was not a monster. He had human feelings and emotions, like missing someone. She stepped even closer to the other distressed child. When he noticed her closeness, however, he backed away quickly with his arms out in defense.

"D-Don't come near me," he said. "I don't want to hurt you! I might...go nuts again, remember?"

Now, Yo was no expert on psychology, but she could tell that it was human isolation that caused him to snap, which was exactly what he was doing to protect her. Isolate himself.

"I know you mean well, Lance, but you tend to get awfully lonely, don't you?" She asked, knowing full well what the answer would be.

"Y-Yes," Fanboy admitted, remembering with distaste, the hundreds of thousands of hours alone. "But I can't risk your life. I could never forgive myself if I hurt you," he explained, trying to look sincere. "I...I love you... And I can't kill you like I killed everyone else."

Yo smiled. "I love you too, Lance," she took one last step toward him and wrapped her arms around his bare torso, causing him to shriek.

"No! NO! Yo, get off me!" He cried, untangling her arms from around him. In the process, it loosened his towel, causing it to slide down to his knees and reveal the disgusting, lurid scars that it had hidden. "Please!" He was in tears.

He shoved Yo away and stumbled into his bed and covered himself, the girl following close behind. "You can't be near me! I'm a monster!" He screamed, mashing his face into the covers. He stayed like that for a half-hour before he felt something press against him. Yo.

By this point in time, he was too weak to object physically. "Get out..." He murmured. "Leave me alone!" Flesh and fabric brushed against his bare flesh. He refused to look at her. "I don't understand...how could you like somebody as horrible as me? I'm a monster..."

"You're wrong," was his simple reply. Surprisingly strong arms gripped his shoulders and turned him over to face her, despite his protests. With gentle fingers, she lightly brushed away his fresh tears. "You're not a monster. I know you. And I love you. Understand?" She whispered. When he did not respond, she said, "I know you don't believe me, but it's the truth, and I don't lie. You ought to know that. Remember all those months ago, you told me my eyes got bigger when I lied. Tell me, am I lying?"

"I'm naked, you know," he mumbled, blushing a bright red in the face. Well, it wasn't like she had not seen him nude before, but still. That didn't matter. She had to get away.

"Lance... Am I lying?"

Fanboy stared at the face and into the sapphire eyes of his beloved and replied, "No...you aren't. But...geez, Yo. You can do so much better than me." Nice.

Yo could only smile. "Oh Lance..." She murmured sympathetically. Without a warning, she leaned forward, and gently pressed her lips against his cheek, causing him to freeze in astonishment. "Trust me, you just need some help."

"Help." He said flatly.

"Yes, help. A counselor perhaps?" She suggested. She glanced at his face, which was contorted into a deep frown. He was thinking about his mother, she realized. Beatrice was a counselor. Yo continued to babble on in nervousness, hoping that what she said wouldn't trigger the monster inside him.

"I don't want help. I want my mom," Fanboy mumbled, averting his eyes from the Asian girl's. "I want to be with her." Yo immediately recognized the danger signals.

"Beatrice is in Heaven, Lance," she reminded him gently. "And at least you got to meet her, right?"

"I know. I want to go there. I forgot to tell her my favorite song," he said, eyes clearing as if he were deep within a memory. Yo listened intently. "I didn't even get the chance to tell her that I loved her." Fanboy flipped over on his side, his bare backside facing Yo. "She knew nothing about me, only that I was horrible." He stopped talking after that. Yo supposed that that was his way of telling her that he was shut down for the night.

Both children eventually settled down for the night, one guilt-ridden and full of self-hatred. The other confused, frazzled, and desperate for love.

What the girl didn't know, was that Fanboy was still fulfilling his plan.

2:00 AM

Who would ever thought that such YobnaF would take place at a place like this? A place engulfed in sunshine and happiness… Full of friendship, color, and love… It was a place where nothing ever quite so horrible happened. Horrible physical things happened, but not so mentally. Or…was that so? Well, now the audience knows that THAT isn't true whatsoever.

Many appalling, tragic things happen when a human being least expects it, most of the time, anyway. Tragic events come about from nowhere, from behind the underbrush, from the confines of your closet, the swings at an innocent school's playground, just as this one did.

Tears will come to your eyes, as you read this story. Other folks might just throw their hands up in exasperation and shout, "Fetch us a basin! We're going to be sick!" Opinions are opinions, no matter how truthful or hurting they may be.

For Fanboy, the truth was unbearable. He could not live with himself any longer. He had to die. The dream he had at the last hospital gave him some ideas on how he should go. He would die a cold but painless lonely death.

Pink sleeping pills sprinkled into his violet-gloved hands. So shiny they were... But before he took them to end his life, he had to give his thanks, and regrets. "Everyone," he whispered up to the Heavens, "I...I'm so sorry about what I did. There's no way I can possibly express my sorrow, because I don't have much a way with words, but I'm so so so sorry Mommy, Lenny, Kyle, Francine, and Blake, and...everyone else." Tears came to his eyes. "I didn't even know their names." How despicable. "I thought killing would be my specialty. I gave into being a monster, and I hurt you all because of it. But I'm so sorry, everybody!"

Making his way over to his sleeping counterpart, he began to cry. "T-Thank you for everything, Yo," he whispered, staring longingly at her. "When I first met you, I thought you were just another silly little girl, trying to always steal my best friend, always pranking me to death. And I...I never thought it would be like this. I never imagined that you would come to care about me, love me. I thought I was hated by everyone, but you stood by me, and I hardly noticed because I was with Chum Chum all the time. Now, I realize you were always there, always looking out for me. I can't thank you enough for that." He leaned down and gave the sleeping girl a soft kiss on the lips, one of his tears making contact with her. He didn't want to leave her, Heaven forbid, but he had to.

"I love you," he finished, bringing his hand up to his mouth, the one with the pink sleeping pills. Several gulps later, he swallowed them all whole. "And I'm going to protect you, no matter what you say...goodbye Yo." Not looking back, he stumbled down the stairs and out the door, closing it for the very last time.

The cool air felt good on his hot skin as he strolled through the dark streets. The voices no longer haunted him. The sounds of crickets chirping and breeze blowing were the only sounds that audible to his ears. It was a huge relief. He walked with his head high and stared right ahead to his destination. He was fearless. Nothing could hurt him anymore. What could they do? He would die anyway.

"I wonder how things will be after I die," he wondered as he head towards the Galaxy Graveyard. "I wonder if Yo will get married and have babies, or what Mr. Muffling will do when he finally retires, or if Oz sells one of his collectibles? Or..." He stopped and paused. Were those police cars? Yes, up ahead near the Frosty Mart. Actually, they were parked right outside. They must have discovered Lenny and a couple of other costumer's' bodies.

Fanboy squinted, trying to hold back the many tears that formed in his eyes, and he shook his head softly.

"_Why did you do this to me?" _A soft voice that most likely belonged to Lenny whispered. Oh no no no no! No more voices! The boy's heart clenched with overwhelming guilt and he quickly moved on.

"Goodbye, Frosty Mart," he said aloud, trying to distract himself from the voice of Lenny.

"_Why_?" The voice whispered again. Fanboy took a little breath, spotting the entrance to the graveyard as he answered the voice. "I-I don't know. I'm sorry Lenny. You didn't deserve what I did to you. If I could give my life for you, I would! I swear I would!"

His hand connected to the cold metal of the rusty entrance gate, and with a bit of a struggle, he pulled it open. "_I never even got to say goodbye to my family! How could you?"_

Fanboy began to cry, his grip loosening from the gate. "It's because I'm a monster," he cried, then scurried into the graveyard, fearing he spoke too loud. After knowing that nobody was following him, he spoke again, "But don't worry, because I won't be able to hurt anyone after tonight!"

"_Then you best be hurrying. The Frosty Mart taped you killing me with the security cameras." _

Fanboy mentally slapped himself. The security cameras! His could he had been so stupid?! Now the police were most likely on his trail! He headed with a quicker pace to over to the famous tree in the center of the graveyard, the tree that looked like a foot. He sat down at the rough base and curled up, waiting for the release of sweet death. Moonlight shone through the leaves on the branches and left spots of light on the wet-with-dew ground. The symptoms from the medication overdose were taking affect. His vision and other senses went fuzzy.

"_This is it," _he thought with bravery_. "I welcome you death_." Interestingly enough, the thought of dying relieved some of the stress he had. No more pain. No more voices. No more him.

"Chum Chum?" He asked aloud, suddenly. He leaned his head back against the tree trunk and stared up at the starry sky through half-lidded emerald eyes. "I...I don't know to say. I suppose..." He paused to rub his bloodshot eyes. "I suppose I should say thank you. You were there for me, little buddy, you always were. You...you are the best friend anybody could ever hope for." He closed his eyes, feeling his own body grow cold. His heartbeat was slowing, breathing more forced and distant in between each inhale. His body gave a few twitches, still desperately struggling against the drugs.

_"You're welcome_." A cheerful voice spoke up.

"Mm?" He opened his emerald eyes to a half-lidded position. Chum Chum sat in between his legs, peering up at his best friend with wide chocolate eyes. Fanboy smiled in relief. He would die in the presence of his best friend.

_"I hope you think you're doing the right thing, dying like this." _Chum Chum said.

Fanboy shrugged and said, "It's better to be safe than..." he paused to force in a deep breath. It was getting harder to breathe. "...than to be sorry. I don't have anything to worry about now, since Yo is safe."

"_She loves you you know._" Chum Chum pointed out. _"Good thing she won't chase after me because she likes you now, right_?"

"Her. Love me? Huh. She's fooling herself," the taller male muttered. "No one in their right mind would love me after what I've done. I wouldn't be surprised if you don't like me anymore just like everyone else."

"_What about your mommy?_" Chum Chum questioned. "_She said she loved you more than anything, no matter what happened. Yo isn't fooling herself; none of us are. The only person who is fooling himself is you. You've convinced yourself that you're a monster, and then you acted like one. But no, Fanboy, you aren't a monster_."

Fanboy stayed silent, still struggling to breathe. Chum Chum embraced the other child as he started to whimper.

"I-I *gasp* I am...I killed..." He heaved. "I killed our friends! I k-killed everyone."

_"I'll be honest. You did terrible, terrible things. You did things that are villainous. But do you regret it_?"

"Oh yes!" Fanboy cried. "Yes! Ye-*cough* Yes!" He forced out. "I'm so sorry for everything I did! GOD!" He screamed to the Heavens, not caring if anybody heard him. "IF YOU CAN HEAR ME, I'M SORRY! I'M SO SO SO SORRY FOR EVERYTHING! FOR HURTING KYLE, MY MOM, LENNY, BLAKE, AND EVERYONE ELSE WHO WAS HURT BECAUSE OF ME!" Tears were pouring out of his eyes. He gasped and gurgled on his saliva as he cried in agony. "PLEASE! FORGIVE ME! FORGIVE ME!" He paused to cough again, and then, something amazing happened.

His voice and throat cleared, a weird sort of energy overtaking him, and he managed to muster up the strength to speak his mind for the very last time. And so he began, "I'm not the best speaker in the *cough* world, but I would love to sum this up the best way I can think of. I suppose this would be more of a 'goodbye everyone' introduction, instead of a 'Hello everyone' introduction, but I digress. Yeah, anyway, this is my last will and testament, and I hope whoever hears this will, shall respect it."

_"Go on_..." Chum Chum encouraged.

"It's weird how I use to think that life was worth living. A lot can change in your personality after you lose someone who's very close to you. Like you, Chum Chum. I know I need someone, and I realize that I need help. Do I want it? I don't know. It's not because I don't like the people that I don't want their help. It's because I don't think anybody TRULY understands what pain I'm going through right now. I don't think anybody that's tried to help me has gone through the same experiences I have. I just want it to end, so, nobody has to feel sorry for me."

Another pause, and a cough.

"A little while ago, somebody told me that I-I acted all depressed because I wanted attention. At first, I thought the idea was stupid, and that I'd never sink that low to do something like that. Yet now as I'm writing this, I'm thinking, maybe, just maybe, that person wasn't too far off the honesty scale. I mean, who's to say I wasn't doing it for attention? Maybe I was, and just didn't realize it at the time. Before my best friend died, we were always together, and we were never apart from each other. Maybe after spending those uncomfortable hours alone, I did need some love and attention." He sighed and closed his eyes, visualizing what his mother looked like.

"I have no family of my own to comfort throughout those times, so I really just don't know." He continued, wiping his eyes. "I was not pretending to be sad. I was NOT pretending. It must sound strange coming from a person like me; the person who always pretends; the person who's so unrealistic; the person who always daydreams in class; the person with the insane nightmares at night." He shivered.

"Oh yeah, the nightmares. I guess it's time that I confess about that. So here it is: After Chum Chum died, I got ZERO sleep. It didn't help handle my tough situations with my feelings (dumb insomnia). The nightmares were horribly graphic, and just showed Chum Chum dying over and over and over. It just freaked me out even more than I would think it would. I was too scared to go to sleep, and that's why I looked so strange at school: Falling asleep and everything in class. You guys all saw me, and I know that a decent amount of you were afraid of me. I think everyone in town saw me." His bottom lip trembled.

"Well, now you all know. You all know what a monster I am inside. I really believe that this part of me can't cope with my feelings half the time, and my other part (the sensible one) barley shows through, or even exists for that matter. So it leads to many people to believe that the sensible part of me doesn't exist, and that I'm all just a stupid, immature, annoying, superhero wannabe, killing machine. The side of me is usually waiting to ambush the other one, which is purer, deeper, and finer. But now I feel like the good part of me is nearly gone, and I want to die before it completely goes away. But I completely turn into a monster again."

"Yeah, I admit, I can be an amusing clown for an afternoon, but after that, everyone's had enough of me to last a year. I hate to tell everyone this, but why shouldn't I admit it when it's true? My lighter, more superficial side will always overpower on the deeper side and therefore always win. You can't imagine how often I've tried pushing away this side of me—to beat it down, hide it. But it doesn't work, and I know why."

"I'm afraid that people who know me as I usually am will discover that I have another side, a better, finer side. I'm afraid they'll continue to mock me, think I'm ridiculous and sentimental and not take me seriously. I'm not used to be taken seriously, but only the "happier" side of me is used to it and can put up with it; the "deeper" side of me is too weak. If I force the sensible side of me into the world for even fifteen minutes, it'll clam up the moment it's called upon to speak, and let side number one do the talking. Before I realize it, that deeper part of me has disappeared."

"So the sensible side of me has never been seen in company of other people the than Chum Chum of course. I don't think that part has ever made a single appearance in public, though it always takes the stage when I'm alone. I know exactly how I want to be, how I am on the inside. But unfortunately, I'm only like that with myself nowadays. And maybe that's why—no, I'm not sure why—I think of myself happy on the inside and other people thought I was happy on the outside. That is precisely the problem; I am not happy on the inside."

"My mother once said that I am a superhero in my own way; even though I couldn't save Chum Chum. I am beyond guilty for that. I don't care what anyone says to me; I know it was my fault Chum Chum died, and that people do have a reason to be mad at me. I couldn't even save myself, my mother."

"As I've told you, what I say is not what I feel entirely, which is why a have… or had, the reputation for being annoying, without a care in the world. The happy-go-lucky Fanboy laughs, gives a flippant reply, shrugs his shoulders and pretends he doesn't care what other people think about him. The quiet part of me reacts in just the opposite way. If I'm being completely honest, I'll have to admit that the important things in life do matter to me, that I'm trying to change myself, but I'm always up against a powerful enemy of my own: insanity. I can't think straight nowadays. I'm always hearing Chum Chum's voice; even though I know I'm alone wherever I go. I don't feel safe…nobody is safe."

"But, I'm not saying this to complain or moan about how awful my life has been. Believe me, the good outdoes the bad," Fanboy whispered, clutching his best friend's hand. "I had so many fun adventures in this crazy town, and none of them would have possible without it's wonderful citizens. Though my friends may have not liked me, I like you guys all the same. You people are the closest thing I'll ever have to a family, but now as I see it, our relationship is straining, and now broken. I don't blame any of you, for it's equally my fault too. I pushed every single one of you away, and I'm so, so, so, so, so sorry. I'm going to miss all of you. ALL of you! Yeah, I'm going to miss every single person in this town!"

As death became consuming him, he began to quicken his speech. "There are a few people that I would like to say a special goodbye to. I'm not ranking anybody, I just feel like they were more involved in my life than anyone: Kyle, Yo, Boog, Lenny, and Oz. Okay, I don't believe that I can express my feelings with words on a paper than out loud, personally. I can't tell you guys how sweet you are or how much I miss you. Kyle, first things first, you were an amazing friend, and such a talented wizard! You made the whole school year so much fun, and especially that time when you had the chicken…. ….I guess I shouldn't really mention that. I wish you all the best of luck, and I hope you fulfill your dreams, and perhaps readmit into Milkweed Academy! I hope with all my heart that you're okay. Don't waste your time worrying about me."

"Boog, I really don't have much to say to you. I wish I did though. You really weren't a friend of mine, yet somehow, even though you bopped me and Chum Chum all the time…I don't know… I feel like you were a big contributor to my life. My life really wouldn't feel complete without you! I wish you all the best of luck… Win that high place on Chimp Chomp for Chum Chum (I could never do it). And please try to stop bopping. I know it's hard, but still, I'm going to seriously miss you, Boog! Oh, and by the way, I DO forgive you for what happened, I promise. I hope you find your way out of that Mental hospital. Beat the highest level in Chimp Chomp for me."

"Lenny, the best assistant manager of the Frosty Mart: how are you? Listen, I loved visiting the Frosty Mart and everything because of the awesomeness of… well… everything there, but I think it was you who made everything like a "whimsical" adventure at that place. I know you don't really like me all that much, and I can understand why; it was pretty fun to mess with you! B-But what I did to you was unforgivable, and I never thought that I would hurt you! But it sounds really "villain" to something like that say that, so of course, I'm really sorry for all of the trouble I caused you. I wish I could make it up to you somehow. I actually wanted to work at the Frosty Mart when I got older, but now I see that since I'm going to die, it'll be impossible. It won't be the same without you. I-I miss you. And... There's only one person in this town that I truly looked up to; the person who was always a role model for me; a parental figure that I waited for, but never came. Oz, I miss you. I miss you, so is there any other deeper way to illustrate that? If so, I'm sorry but I don't know! I haven't seen you in such a long time. I want to say goodbye this way. I can't go to you. I'm sorry I'm SO SORRY."

A voice inside of him was sobbing, "_You see, that's what has become of you. You're surrounded by negative opinions, disgusted looks, mocking faces, people who hate you and all because you don't listen to your own better half, and to the people who want to help you. _

"_YOU NEED HELP!__"_ Fanboy sighed. "Believe me, I'd like to listen, but it doesn't work, because if I'm quiet and serious, everyone thinks that I'm joking or just being creepy, and I'm not even talking about my own old friends, who assume I'm a sick, twisted person, and that I should be stuffed with aspirins and sedatives until I can't take it anymore. Because when everyone is hovering over me at some point, I get angry, then sad, and finally turning my heart inside out, the bad part on the outside, the good on the inside, and trying to find a way to become what'd I'd like to be and what I could be…if Chum Chum and I were the only people in the world..."

His heart beat slower and slower until the distance between each beat was nearly three seconds.

_"I'd like to be buried in Chum Chum's grave. I learned through all this, that he is I, and I am he._

Chum Chum smiled and snuggled next to his best friend. _"I love you Fanboy, and I'm sure God forgives you too_."

Fanboy began to run out of steam, his body slowing, system shutting down. His eyes began to flutter. "I'm sorry," he whispered, going limp. "I'm sorry...Chum Chum... Please don't go... Don't leave me alone..."

"_I'm staying_." Chum Chum promised.

Fanboy smiled and placed his hand on the shoulder of his friend. His eyes fluttered shut. "I love you little buddy..." He whispered, before the last trace of his life essence drained from him. His body gave one last twitch and then stilled.

And then it was over. Gone was Lance Corporal...forever.

Oz had found Fanboy first. The shock of seeing the dead child was more than the man could handle. He sobbed piercingly and hysterically, cradling the boy's limp, lifeless body in his arms. He had come to the graveyard to search for the wanted murderer, only to find Fanboy, dead. Oz had first noticed the empty Sleeping Pills bottle and knew that the child had done this purposely.

"OH, MY GOD!" Oz cried to the dead youngster. "Why didn't you tell me what was wrong? I COULD HAVE HELPED YOU! I COULD HAVE SAVED YOU! SERIOUSLY! YOU DIDN'T HAVE TO DO THIS!" Fanboy, of course, gave no response and Oz resumed crying, cuddling the body tighter to his chest. He knew the answer already, though. Fanboy had simply lost the will to live...He just gave up. And now Oz was too late.

"Oz?"

"…"

"OZ!"

No. The man slowly turned around to find Yo standing away at a respectable distance, frozen, hands covering her mouth as she stared at the body in Oz's arms. She had awakened and panicked, noting Fanboy's absence, so she set off to look for him herself, but she remembered her camera that had been set up, and she hear every single word Fanboy had said.

"O-Oz…? What happened?" She questioned, inching closer to the teary-eyed man.

Oz shook his head and moved his attention back to the boy's face, which was tear-painted and red from his previous crying. The man sighed and set Fanboy's body back onto the grass as gently as he could.

Oz swallowed hard and held out a shaky finger to the girl and said, "Yo. I need you to stay here. I need to go back to my shop to get help. I don't have a cellphone with me and I need to call the police. J-Just stay here okay?"

Yo glanced at Fanboy, and then back at Oz, nodding rather shakily. W-What had happened? No… She watched as Oz ran off into the distance and gazed at Fanboy's face. His cheeks were red and tear-painted. His mouth was slightly open and his eyes squeezed shut. Yo stared at him. What was wrong with him? Why was Oz crying like that? Her mind was so fuzzy; she could hardly comprehend what was happening. Then she noticed the blood. Thick, dried blood coated his face, and the rest of his body in layers. What...was he mauled? It looked like a dog had attacked him! There were honest-to-God teeth marks!

"…L-Lance?"

There was no answer and Yo considered if he was unconscious, but as he remained unmoving, she grew worried.

"Oh…no…" she whispered as the realization dawned on her.

No. No, no, no, no, NO, NO, NO! This couldn't have happened! This couldn't have! This couldn't be happening! Yo drew in a sharp breath as she observed his stillness. Wait. NO! This just couldn't be real! H-He was probably unconscious! Yeah!

Yo fell to her knees and waited for a sign of life from the boy. When she received none, the girl put a hand to his shoulder and shook it gently.

"Fanboy? F-Fanboy…? Please wake up!"

Fanboy made no movement. The sudden dread that had been filling Yo's heart to this moment, increased at the thought of her friend being...d-de…dead. Slowly, she lifted one of his eyelids and gasped in realization.

"FANBOY!" Yo screamed in absolute panic. Not wasting a moment, she heavily slapped at his face, hoping he would have some form of reaction. "C'MON FANBOY! WAKE UP WAKE UP WAKE UP!" Tears immediately sprung to her eyes. She tried to hold in a sob, and failed miserably.

Frantically pressing her lips against the cold ones, Yo performed her best imitation of CPR, hoping that somehow, that would help bring him back to life. It did not, of course, and she completely flipped out. She licked her lips, tasting a weird medicine taste and blood. "OH NO, WHAT DO I DO? WHAT DO I DO? WHAT DO I DO?" Yo yelled, gripping her hair in a panicked frenzy. She quickly scanned the area in hope. No. Nobody was there. REALLY?

It took a while, but when she calmed down somewhat, she realized the reality of the situation. He was gone, and there was nothing that she could do to help. Yo crawled over to Fanboy's body and shivered. She hesitantly moved a hand to his tearstained cheek, and caressed it gently. She cried even harder, collapsing next to the unmoving figure and pulled it close.

She buried her face in the chest as a way to muffle her sobs, her tears staining the clothes. She felt his body warmth slowly leaving the body, resulting it to a becoming a cold, stiff corpse.

"W-Why did you leave, Fanboy? You shouldn't have left," She whispered hoarsely. "First Chum Chum… Now you…You shouldn't have done this, not for me."

With that in mind, Yo had the notion that his death was perhaps her fault. If she hadn't stayed with him...NO. She was silent for a few moments, letting the tears drip down her face and whispered to him, "Remember what I said about you at the accident, Fanboy? Remember?" She gently interlocked her fingers with his stiff gloved ones. "I never wanted you to die. Don't believe a word I ever said, Fanboy! Well, DON'T! Don't you even think about it! Everything insulting anyone ever said about you: don't believe a word of it. Even though you acted out of line, you never meant to! You used to be a great person." She gripped his hand tighter, the one with the empty pill bottle in it, and held their hands to her chest.

"W-Why did you leave?" She whispered, sitting up. Leaning over Fanboy again, she gently kissed his cheek… "I-I love you… Just as much as I loved Chum Chum…"

Yo slowly removed his mask and stuffed it in her frog backpack and lightly ran her fingers through his golden-brown locks, admiring the softness. "Fanboy, you didn't deserve any of this pain and misery... You didn't deserve to die… A-All I can hope for is that you can make up for it in Heaven. Nobody will ever make fun of you, there. Nobody will be mean to you. Everyone will be kind to you. There won't be any more trouble. There won't be any more pain. I know you'll have so much fun up there with Chum Chum and you're mommy… and Lenny...and Kyle..." She smiled sorrowfully. In the distance, she heard a siren.

The thought that Fanboy would never be able drive a car, would never date or vote, or find someone who loved him, never get married, or have babies, scared Yo to death. Then again, when she really thought about it, perhaps his death was best.

It was a cruel thought, but she didn't dismiss it. Maybe the world needed to contain that genetic error of a human at all costs! Who knows what his children would have been like? Would they have had the same bloodthirsty curse? "God, please take care of him. He didn't know anything."

Along with the paramedics, the police, namely Agent Johnson, arrived as well. After identifying him as the wanted murderer from the evidence of the witness (Yo), they noted and broadcasted it in the Newspaper. The "Masked Murderer" they called him.

Fanboy did receive his dying wish. Oz volunteered to wash the blood off of Fanboy's body. Taking the costume off his body was tricky, because the fabric was saturated with thick layers of blood and stuck to his skin. After the deed was finished, he now only had a little white blanket wrapped around his frail body. Oz placed him in the casket himself, curling the little boy up in a fetal position because the coffin was so small. Yo held his mask in his hands as she stared down at the other child. He looked so helpless, weak and was curled up as if we were trying desperately to get warm. Looked like he was sleeping a deep slumber. Not a monster. Just a baby animal curled up in a box.

How could someone who did so many horrible things look so innocent? He looked completely harmless, weak even.

She felt an arm wrap around her. Oz. Only he and his mother had showed up for the makeshift funeral for Fanboy and it broke Yo's heart. As Oz placed the lid over the casket, she took in every detail of Fanboy's face. She had no pictures of him. He now only existed in her memory.

"Go to your mama, Fanboy," she whispered, "Go find your mama."

...

Over a brief period of time, townsfolk would visit his tombstone. But it wasn't to pay respect, not that he deserved any. Everyone, including those victim's family, spat on his grave and wished him to burn in Hell. It pained Yo to see that, but she could not blame them for their feelings towards him.

It scared her. That he might go to Hell. But that of course was God's decision, not hers.

They boarded and chained up every entrance to the Fanlair, but once in a while, a brave child would go up to the entrance of the water tower and come back claiming it was haunted. That there was still someone roaming throughout the terrace. That was because somebody had already gained entrance. Yo.

She entered through the back door of the water tower, and hardly left. The boys appeared in her mind, and before her eyes. They were back to normal, super hero outfits and all. Carefree. Innocent. Fun-loving. Smiling happily. They greeted her happily. They were back. The boys were back. Her boys.

She closed her eyes. "_I'm never going back." _And she never did.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter ?

The woman stared at the empty bottles surrounding her feet and sighed, not knowing what to feel. She sank deeper into the dusty, tattered green couch and lit a match. Glancing back up to watch the two boys happily playing with each other, laughing, she lit her cigarette, and inhaled through her nose deeply. It was hard ignoring the dust that lingered in the air, filling the confines of the darkened water tower.

The woman understood the notion that she was crazy. She had been crazy for the past ten years. The mental asylum hadn't helped. The boys… She watched as the taller one smashed his action figure into his younger friend's own, making fighting sound effects.

The woman inhaled another breath of her cigarette, and exhaled another cloud of smoke. She watched as the smoke drifted upwards, toward the cobweb-infested ceiling, as it dissolved with the air.

The two boys giggled, and the younger one shouted, "I win!" His voice sounded like an echo, bouncing off of the walls, whose paint was chipping and peeling off. The woman watched them intently. They had appeared before her eyes, ten years ago. They never saw her; she just saw them, as she ventured into the water tower for the first time since Fanboy's death. She had watched them for hours on end, as her mind created the images.

The boys never left the water tower, yet somehow, they would appear in different rooms, doing different things as the days went on. Sometimes, they seemed solid, like real humans, and sometimes, they were transparent, like ghosts. Sometimes, she would see them playing with their action figures. Sometimes she would see them reading their comic books, giggling over the comedic stories and artwork. Sometimes, at night, she would see them sound asleep in their own beds with happy smiles uplifting their expressions. Whatever happened, the boys were always together, as it should have been.

One interesting thing that the woman noticed was their ages. They never really did age as the years went on. The twelve and ten year-old were and would always be the same preteens they had before.

Strangely enough, the boys took no notice of her. They never seemed to see her as she watched them got on with their daily lives in their home. It was like she was watching through a portal to a nonexistent realm.

Yo never truly got over the boys' death. She lost the two most important people in her life, and she really couldn't handle something like that. How coincidental that her only parent, her daddy, died the same year the boy did, of a heart attack. After her dad had died, Yo cried out to her friends for help. They didn't help much, thinking that she was only going to end up the same way Fanboy did.

The only one who tried to console her was the school nurse, who was guilt-ridden by Fanboy's death. After a few months, Nurse Lady Pam transferred, and that was that. Kyle finally readmitted to Milkweed Academy, and left her a mess. Yo was alone. Why had this happened? Where were the friends she used to know? Were these unfortunate events some sort of disgusting DISEASES?

Another giggle and a loud, hearty laugh caused the woman's gaze to lock with the purple-masked boy. He gazed back at her, fear evident in his emerald eyes. She blinked, and he blinked. The twenty one-year old frowned and shifted uncomfortably in the couch as the boy's pupils bore into hers.

"Hello," His voice sounded like a whisper sort of echo. The first syllable of the word he spoke sounded quiet and normal, and the rest of the world sound like a loud whisper.

The woman coughed in surprise, for he had said that while she was inhaling on her cigarette. He…He could see her? "Y-You can see me…Lance?" She whispered.

Fanboy glanced around at the bottles and cigarette butts that littered the dusty wooden floor of the Fanlair. Then he glanced back up at her, and gave the woman a sad look, "My name is FANBOY! Yeah. I can see you; you're hard to miss."

The younger boy jumped up and down. "I can see you too!" he exclaimed happily. His voice too had the echo proportions. "Why did you think that we couldn't see you?"

The woman didn't answer at first. She locked her eyes with Fanboy's. "Because… Neither of you could see me before, although I saw the two of you."

"Who are you?"

The woman coughed in surprise, and a bit of hurt clenched at her heart. They couldn't remember her? "I…I'm Yo. Remember? Yo Sakura?"

Fanboy rubbed his chin thoughtfully and replied, "Huh, you look like a Yo in my class."

Yo sighed, "I am that Yo, Fanboy."

The two boys looked at each other in confusion, and then back to her. "But," Fanboy muttered, "you're way older than the Yo I know. The Yo I know is only eleven years old! You look like you're forty-five!"

Yo sighed and nudged one of the empty beer bottles over with her foot. "You don't understand, Fanboy, Chum Chum."

Chum Chum gazed up at the woman, "Are you her mommy or something?"

"No!" Yo muttered. She flicked her cigarette away and watched it burn out on the floor. She didn't exactly know how to explain this to the boys. She obviously hadn't a conversation with either of them for as long as she could remember. "She's gone."

The boys looked at each other again, shrugged, and smiled. "Oh okay…" Chum Chum said, "Do you wanna play with us?"

"I can't," Yo garbled, her eyes trained on the burning cigarette butt. Chum Chum's voice drew her bloodshot eyes away from it.

Chum Chum's eyes enlarged and he pouted in clear disappointment, "How come?"

Yo gave him an exasperated glare and flicked her long black locks out of her face, "It'd be hard to play with an imaginary friend."

"Imaginary?" Chum Chum asked, confusion evident on his face, "I'm not imaginary! I'm real! Besides that, it's easy to play when you use your imagination!"

"No, this isn't fun…Uh! Look, I hate to break this to you the hard way, and believe me, I'm trying to lie this down gently, but… you died, along with your best friend… a long time ago…

"What do you mean?" Fanboy's whispery voice asked carefully, "I'm not dead."

"Neither am I!" Chum Chum piped in!

Yo's dirty, untrimmed fingernails gripped the hem of her skirt, as an unknown anger bubble up inside of her. "Yes, you did die!"

"Nu-uh, we did not!" The boys contradicted.

"Yes you did!" Yo snapped sharply, "and what do you know? You're not even real! And even if you were real; which you're not; you wouldn't know anything because you're both just l-little kids!"

"Well," Fanboy huffed, "I'm standing here talking to you, aren't I?"

"You aren't even real!" Yo said, her voice rising. Her eyesight was beginning to become blurry, and her throat was clogged with unnecessary words. "You two are just images my screwed-up mind created! I'm not talking to a real person, I-I'm talking to the air!"

"…I think you've been drinking too much of that stuff!" Fanboy muttered, shaking his head and pointing towards the bottles.

"SHUT UP!"

Silence. Shock.

"Leave me ALONE! LEAVE! I can't take this! I can't take this! DO YOU SEE ME!? I'm talking to nothing! I'm talking to the air!" Yo screamed. Finally, the tears came, cascading down her cheeks, a river of salty water.

"Then why can't you leave?"

"I can't." Yo pressed a hand over her mouth as great big tears rolled down her cheeks. "I couldn't leave… You two are the only ones I have left…I-I'm so scared. I'm s-so scared of being alone…" She had never mentioned that out loud for so many years. Confessing that, just made her feel worse.

"I was scared of being alone too Yo," Fanboy whispered, smiling a sad smile. "I was terrified of being alone, and I never let anyone try to help me. I needed help, I wanted help, but I wouldn't let anybody in to do so. The results…" he shrugged. "You know the story." Yo's chin began to tremble and she burst out sobbing within seconds. The two boys hugged her waist lovingly as she continued to cry. Yo expected to feel nothing but air as they slung their arms around her, but she felt them. She looked down at the children, and finally realized how small they were. She smiled through her tears at the memory of Fanboy seeming so tall, now his eyes were at her waist. All these years...

"You won't be alone…We'll be with you." The boys cooed. Yo slowly wrapped her arms around the boys' shoulders and kneeled down to their level. She could feel them, their warmth. Then, for the first time in a long time, Yo felt loved. She felt the warmth of their love, and she absorbed it the best she could. She no longer felt alone.

"We will always be with you, no matter what!" The boys' voices echoed in her mind. Yo squeezed her eyes shut and felt the warm salty tears once again trail down her face, and drip onto the dusty floor. Fanboy buried his face in Yo's stomach, and squeezed her tighter. "We love you, Yo…" Their voices grew fainter and fainter with the passing seconds. Yo finally heard their soft, echoing words disappear altogether. She no longer felt their warm grip cocooning her, no longer heard there voices...They were gone.

She let out another sob as she heard their voices echo one final time, "We'll always be with you Yo… We promise…" Then silence. The woman's arms dropped to her sides and hung there limply. She sat there for what seemed to be an eternity, and she shut her eyes. Yo felt their presence… they were there… And now, it was time for her to leave them to play. "I'll miss you…"

Yo slowly stood up and walked to wards the door, pushing it open. The cold air of the cloudy skies blew at her, and she looked back into the boy's house one final time. Yo closed her eyes once more and whispered, "I love you Lance, rest in peace…"

The woman looked over the abandoned town, and unhurriedly closed her eyes. She could no longer hear the laughter and chatter of the children in town all those years ago. No longer did she have the adventures of childhood that she had once experienced. No longer was the Frosty Mart open, boards hammered on the sliding glass doors. Oz's comics stood deserted and abandoned. Everyone was gone, left over the years, and yes, physically, she was alone; but not in her mind or in her heart. The cloudy skies shimmered and the tan, autumn leaves gently flew through the air, causing her to shudder.

Yo Sakura placed her hand once more on the door and shut it slowly for the very last time, the cloudy outside light disappearing within the sanctuary, the dust collecting all that it could from these fresh, yet forgotten memories.

The End ㈷5


End file.
